


Awaken, Emrys!

by BlueHot_Chronicles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Character Bashing, F/M, Gen, Harry is Merlin, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentor Severus Snape, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POC - Hermione Granger, POV Multiple, Tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22449148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueHot_Chronicles/pseuds/BlueHot_Chronicles
Summary: This is a Harry Potter is Merlin story. I really can’t do a better summary than this, yet. Both Merlin and Harry are most likely OOC, especially Merlin. First-Person POV in the first chapter ONLY. Cross-posted from fanfiction.net.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of BlueHot Chronicles. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> This story will take a while for me to complete. For now, it’s rated T.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All chapters posted so far will be edited (minor changes and grammar) as of 17th February 2021.

_ **Samhain, 1970** _

It is time.

I've grown weary of this life. Ages have passed since they've gone. My friends. My family... Arthur.

My longing for their companionship faded long ago.

Arthur's soul has returned to fulfil some destiny or other many times; sometimes he's male, sometimes female, and not always have we gotten along — as he never recovers past memories.

Arthur, King of Camelot is well and truly gone. Now all I want to do is rest.

Yet, I've been forbidden the ultimate release... death.

In the beginning, I'd been forced to remain, learn about new discoveries or technologies. However, centuries ago I'd been taught by a strange being — modern humans, if they met him, would call him either a messenger, God's son, or an alien — he confided that there's another way for me to rest periodically.

So now I choose this path for the third time in my unending life. I am eager to rest. There is a lingering hope that my new family will be as perfect as it had been with my first mother, Hunith.

I look around at my manor home for the last time until my return. I know the Goblins will ensure my properties are well taken care of until such a time, and so I descend into my dungeon where I keep my Sorcery Chamber.

On entering the room, I close and lock the door. With a bit of concentration, the Wards around my home become impregnable; nothing and no one is going to get in or out. Time is not allowed to age or corrupt any of my material possessions around the manor.

My little companion, still in the chamber with me, is allowed to come and go as he pleases and knows how to keep himself safe. Besides, their kind is normally long-lived, I'm not worried, he's a powerful little guy.

"Emrys, are you sure this is the right time? The Evil One is becoming stronger."

"I know this already, my friend, but I do not feel the _Call_ to engage this enemy. I am weary... I need the rest that reincarnation will provide me. And if I am to be here for Arthur to defeat this evil, the _Call_ will ensure my immediate rebirth instead of a years-long interim."

Wide and worried green eyes glare up at me for a moment, but I know that my friend would give in. He knows how much better I feel after a reincarnation.

"Please, my friend," I say, hunching down in front of him, "when I have gone, find yourself a wife as willing to learn as you, have some children. Teach them all I have taught you... I don't want you to be alone."

Without waiting for his answer, I go to the centre of the room where I've already drawn the circle of runes, and a number of alien and other occult symbols on the floor. I turn to face my little buddy, I can see the tears in his eyes as I begin to chant the spell that will take my essence to Source.

"I... _we_ will be awaiting your return, Emrys."

I can feel my Magick reaching for the Darkness and I smile at my friend one last time.

"I'll see you later, Dobby."

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Awareness comes to me slowly, but I am still within a form of Darkness.

My new mother's womb.

I briefly wonder... _again_... at the knowledge that I'm currently a zygote and if it's possible that other unformed babies are as aware as I am at this stage. I sincerely hope not.

I allow myself to reach a state of higher consciousness, as sleep is impossible for me at this stage of gestation.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

_Nine_ years, that's all I've been allowed to rest? _Nine years_!

I sigh and wiggle a digit here and there to make sure my growth's going well. Only the knowledge that I don't have to hide my magick in this life makes my early reincarnation bearable.

Yes! My parents are magickal!

I gather this by listening to my mother when she speaks to me, and sometimes my father when he loudly makes an entry in his grimoire. I realise early on that this is a new occurrence for me — you know, having magickal parents — and I can't wait to be born.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

They're arguing.

They _never_ argue... what's happening?

I wake from a peaceful sleep to the empathic energy of my mother's distress and quickly cloak my fragile body. There isn't much I can safely do in the body of an unborn — even a newborn — baby, but I can do enough to keep myself safe.

If I remember correctly, my mother should be in the eighth month of her pregnancy... and I can tell that I'm upside down. This is weird.

"How could you ask me to do this?" my mother cries.

"I'm doing this for both of you, Lily... you and my son."

I sense both of their distress...

_Please don't fight. I want my family whole and happy. Just this one time... please._

"No… you're doing this for you!"

Something that sounds like a door slam, and I only sense the presence of my mother, and since I can feel the motion, it means that my mother has just left my father.

Why does destiny keep doing this to me?

Don't _I_ deserve to be happy?

Too distressed and unwilling to harm my body, I choose to meditate deeply until it's time to get out.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

"Oh James, he's beautiful."

_Why thank you, mother,_ I think, recognising her voice. Though it sounds different now that I'm outside her womb.

I look up at the other face hovering above me. Is that my father? Thank the Gods! They've worked things out while I'd been meditating… _yes_!

"He definitely has your smile, Lily. Look, he's smiling at me!"

Wait…

"Say hi to daddy, Harry."

What? _Harry_... that's the best name they could come up with? _Who the..._

"Welcome to the wizarding world, Harry James Potter."

I don't feel... _right_... but they're so happy to see me. It looks as though they love me already... what the hell… I smile and fall asleep to gushing coos.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

I don't approve of my father's friends.

Sirius is so immature and I sense he doesn't like my mother; for a Werewolf, Remus is such a coward but I guess he's kinda nice, and _Can't These People Sense the EVIL Pouring Off of Peter!_

Don't my parents know that they're supposed to protect me from people like that? Instead, I'm surrounded by wizards who could hurt me, intentionally or not!

Although, yesterday I heard my parents and Sirius saying that Remus has disappeared. If I could snort, I would. Even _I_ know they believe the Werewolf was some kind of spy. And I'm a baby! Forget the guy with evil smirks and giggles.

Imbeciles! I'm surrounded by imbeciles, I tell you!

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Life with my new parents the past week has been amazing!

My father's friends haven't been around at all, and he's been retraining my tiny body to ride a broomstick again. Like I said... amazing.

As for my mother, sometimes I can sense a sadness within her, that's understandable — although there's nothing I can do about it yet — but, she is a wonderful woman and she loves me.

For ten minutes now I've been sitting in my crib and watching as my mother writes a letter. She's crying and keeps looking at me as she writes, then she seals it, taps it with her wand and the envelope disappears.

The house begins shaking five minutes later.

"Lily, it's him!" I hear my father yell from downstairs. "Take Harry and run... I'll hold him off!"

I can't help myself in my young and fragile body... I cry when I can no longer sense my father. I watch helplessly as my mother closes the door and kneels to look at me through the bars of the crib. She's crying too.

"Mama."

It's a parting gift, they've been trying to get me to say it for some time now, but I've been pretending ignorance. I know that this Voldemort can't kill me... I _think_. However, I also know my mother's about to die, especially as she cast an ancient spell over me that's completely unnecessary… _maybe_. The spell alone has already taken a hold of her life.

I can't stop crying and I keep calling for her... she's crying through her smiles as she cherishes my final and only word to her. I wish I could say a spell or call my magick to save her, but I can't. The magick contained within me will destroy everything and everyone if I release it from this untrained body.

She's begging for my life now from the fully cloaked man who just blasted through the door.

He gives her the chance to save herself.

"Mama, wun"

She doesn't hear me over her pleading. The evil wizard gives her two more chances to leave.

_Please, mother! Run, Please!_

I can barely hold back my magick, I want to save her!

"Avada Kedavra!"

…

She's gone.

I look up as the cloaked evil strolls closer to my crib... he points his wand at my face, and I wait. Mum died for me. I will allow her magick to do what it needs to do.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A blast of green light hits me in the face and...


	2. Chapter One

_ **First Year** _

"Up! Get up!"

That was the greeting Harry Potter became used to receiving every morning at five-thirty.

He would rush through a five-minute cold shower, dress in one of Dudley's old t-shirts and baggy pants, then brush his hair over to one side to hide his scar, before going into the kitchen and making breakfast for his family.

After eating a slice of toast with some butter, and drinking a glass of water from the tap, he would quickly water the rose bushes before collecting his book bag and leaving for the walk to his and Dudley's primary school.

A normal school day consisted of him going to classes and consciously dumbing down his schoolwork, dodging Dudley and his gang, and spending his lunch hour in the library. When the bell rang to signal the end of the school day, Harry would make sure that Dudley and his friends piled into Uncle Vernon's car, before he left the safety of the school grounds to walk home.

The only problem with this was that Dudley and his friends would sometimes double back from home. Then they'd wait for him near the park to play 'Harry Hunting', or just to give him a beating before leaving him to limp home. Once there, Harry would do chores until it was time for him to make dinner, eat his small portion of whichever dish they allowed him and then he was sent to his cupboard, weary and full of longing.

As he lay on the mattress in the cupboard, waiting for sleep to come, he fantasized about some distant relative coming to take him away. His current family hated him, and they made sure — every day of his life — that he knew it.

His gaze lingered on his drawings that he'd stuck to the wall of his cupboard. They were on the side where it wouldn't be immediately seen if one of the Dursleys decided to open the door to poke their head in. All of his drawings were of a fantasy world. There were dragons, gryphons and other fairy tale creatures and beasts; there were even sorcerers!

Thus, Harry Potter would fall asleep and into a fantastical dream where his father — who was a great sorcerer — would come for him, and he would raise Harry to be a sorcerer just like him. Great dragons would descend from the sky and they would speak with Harry and his dad, and they would live in a really nice home and be a happy family forever.

If anyone were to look into his cupboard then, they would see a scrappy and small-for-his-age little boy with a peaceful smile on his face as he slept.

_Emrys..._

Alas! His dream would end and the cycle of his terrible and lonely waking life would begin again the next day.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Everything changed on his eleventh birthday when one of his dreams and wishes came through.

Hagrid had come to give Harry a letter inviting him to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He blushed when he thought of his childish question to the large man the moment the Dursleys had shuffled a pig-tailed Dudley away.

"Are you a Sorcerer, Sir?"

"Call me Hagrid, Harry and we're called wizards, not sorcerers. Oh, and the lasses are called witches."

The next morning, Hagrid had taken him to Diagon Alley. That place — a magickal _town_ — had been amazing! Hagrid had gotten him his first-ever birthday gift, not forgetting the birthday cake, but an actual gift! A beautiful Snowy-Owl that Harry named Hedwig.

The giant man had then told him about Hogwarts and the four Houses; he even told Harry about the lake and the forest and some of the creatures that lived deep within it.

_Just like the ones in my dream world._

There were some bitter moments Hagrid told Harry about, like learning that his parents had died for him at the hand — or wand in this case — of an evil wizard; that Harry was famous because he survived, and that Voldemort might still be out there in this magickal world somewhere, just waiting to return.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

_Wow, I made another friend, and I'm a Gryffindor!_

Harry sat curled up on the broad ledge near the open window in the dormitory he shared with Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus. The others were all asleep, but Harry was too excited about his new magickal life to do the same, thus when Hedwig had paid him a visit, he'd left his bed and sat up with her long into the night.

Ron had been really nice to Harry, telling him about Quidditch and different sweets, the redhead had even been kind enough to warn him about evil Slytherins, just like Hagrid — his first friend — had done.

Draco Malfoy had shown up during the train ride, and the blonde's snooty behaviour had reminded him so much of the Dursley's, it hadn't been that difficult of a choice to dismiss the boy. Harry had glimpsed something that looked like hurt, on the boy's features only for a moment, but Slytherins were evil… _right_?

Things were better this way.

Everyone had cheered when he got into Gryffindor, he had a new friend, and except for the strange prickling in his scar when the Potions Professor had looked at him during the feast, everything was perfect.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Everything _wasn't_ as perfect as Harry had hoped it would be.

Yes, he'd made another friend, Hermione Granger, honestly though, in the beginning, Harry hadn't liked the caramel-skinned girl. She was pushy, a huge know-it-all and a teacher's pet.

Ron didn't like her at all, even after the troll incident. What Harry _didn't_ know was that Ron was only being nice to Hermione because Harry now thought of the girl as a friend.

Classes had been going well, until his first potions session. Snape hated Harry, and the boy couldn't understand why; it was like being back at the Dursley's all over again. At least he didn't have to clean for Snape... unless he got detention, and Harry would do everything in his power to never have detention with a teacher that hated him so much, and for no reason.

If he had to study only potions, then that was what he was willing to do, just to keep on the man's good side... if there was one. Regrettably, there was no getting on Snape's good side, not for anyone who wasn't Slytherin and certainly _not_ for Harry Potter. His Potions work remained inadequate in the professor's eyes and eventually, Harry slacked off.

He'd made the Quidditch team!

Unfortunately, someone had tried to kill him during his first match, and Snape had been seen by his friends jinxing his broom. After the troll incident, he'd opened his big mouth and told Ron and Hermione about Hagrid taking something from the vault in Gringotts.

Suddenly the three of them were seeking daring adventures and trying to find out what Fluffy was hiding, and whether or not Snape was trying to steal whatever _it_ was.

His Christmas holidays spent at Hogwarts had been great. Harry had gotten loads of presents from his friends, and someone had sent him his father's invisibility cloak.

Then he'd found the mirror.

Dumbledore told Harry that it was called the Mirror of Erised, and explained what it does, but Harry was sure that the Headmaster was wrong about one thing. There was no way that the mirror was showing Harry his family, though he did not say this to Dumbledore. He had never seen any pictures of his parents, but the way everyone described them, his mother basically had red hair with emerald green eyes like his, and that Harry looked _exactly_ like his father.

The woman Harry saw in the mirror — although beautiful and seemed kind, motherly and full of love for him — had brown hair, he could tell by the locks that fell from the wrap she used to tie it up. Her eyes were brown, and she wore clothing that seemed to have been made centuries ago.

The man that stood next to her, was dressed in a similar fashion; he had long dark hair streaked with grey, and he had a full beard and moustache. On the whole, except for the hair, Harry wasn't sure if he looked like the man!

What freaked him out the most, were loads of people trying to get to the front of the mirror — on their side — to see him, and none of them resembled him. Not understanding what he was seeing, Harry left, only to return the next night. Though he did not know who these people were, it felt good to see love and pride in their eyes as they looked at him. Hence he stayed, left for lunch, then returned for the third time when Dumbledore caught him.

Things had been nice and quiet for some time, then Hagrid hatched a dragon egg. Later on, when they'd taken Norbert up to the Astronomy Tower to give him to Charlie's friends, Harry, Hermione and Neville had gotten detention in the Forbidden Forest.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Harry had been so ecstatic that they'd gotten rid of the dragon, he'd forgotten his invisibility cloak at the bottom of the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. For some reason, when he was around the dragon, he'd always gotten a blinding headache; and not from his scar, like he'd been feeling in DADA class, but more like an expanding ball of energy that was about to explode in his brain.

Not only had he and his friends gained detention, but they'd also lost Gryffindor a hundred and fifty points for breaking curfew. Their fellow housemates began to either ignore or ridicule Harry, Hermione and Neville, as a result.

Harry even noticed that Ron would hang out with Seamus and Dean in the common room, and if he and Neville were in the dormitory alone, the redhead would chat with them. If Seamus and Dean entered the room, Ron would bid them all 'good night' before rushing behind his bed curtains. Harry didn't blame Ron, he wouldn't want to get between anyone fighting or having a disagreement either.

During detention in the Forbidden Forest, Harry saw a dead unicorn being desecrated, he'd been attacked by Voldemort and was then rescued by a centaur.

After that, they'd had their end-of-term exams, and Harry believed he did well enough. After all, he, Hermione and Neville — and a week after their detention, Ron — would meet in the library to study, just to escape the jeers of their housemates who were furious that they'd lost Gryffindor so many points.

Then Harry had done the unthinkable, he'd betrayed a friend just because he believed he was doing the right thing. After Hermione had jinxed Neville, the three of them left him frozen and alone on the common room floor, so they could follow Snape into the trap door.

Not only had Harry almost gotten his friends killed, but Voldemort had also been down there at the end of all those traps, and possessing the body of Quirrell.

Furthermore, Harry had killed him… on purpose.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Harry looked around dismally, though he tried to hide it, at the happy smiling faces of his housemates, who were clearly no longer shunning him and his friends. They'd just won them the House-Cup, after all. However, their victory felt wrong somehow, and Harry couldn't understand why he felt so conflicted.

After winning them the ten points that gave Gryffindor the edge over Slytherin, Neville had risen from his seat next to Hermione, ignoring everyone as he sat at the end of the table next to some second-years. Ron was stuffing his face and chatting with his brothers Fred and George. Hermione was perusing the questionnaire from their exams, and asking Percy's opinion, who was thrilled to give her advice on any question she might have had trouble with.

Across the hall, not too long ago, Harry had seen the disappointed stance of the Slytherins when the colour of the house banners changed, especially the first-years. Yet, in another moment they all sat straight and proud, wearing looks of either boredom or indifference.

The reality of what had happened hit him at that moment.

At the beginning of the feast, the Great Hall had been decorated in Slytherin colours... the Slytherins had been made to believe that they'd won the House-Cup! And the Headmaster had taken it all away by awarding the Gryffindors in front of everyone... Gryffindors who had been breaking the rules. Harry looked back at Neville, who was now eating mechanically and not talking to anyone.

He looked down at the table in front of him as he thought of the past few days.

Neville hadn't really been speaking to any of them. Harry and Hermione had been treating him as they always had when they'd been studying together in the library or hanging out by the lake. Ron didn't really think much of Neville, and he routinely made disparaging comments about the other boy, which Harry and Hermione had ignored; Harry, because he had thought Ron was just teasing Neville in fun, and… well… he didn't know why Hermione ignored it.

Harry hadn't even apologised for leaving Neville alone and unable to move, in the cold Common Room for possibly the entire night. Harry hadn't asked Neville or anyone how long the boy had been left there. Suddenly, thoughts of all the good he had experienced during the school year bombarded him.

He didn't deserve to be on the Quidditch team, he'd been disobeying a teacher.

He didn't deserve a new broom for the same reason, and also because anyone else would just as easily have used a school broom.

He and Ron hadn't deserved points or praise for taking down a troll, they should have gotten a teacher. The same answer applied to Hagrid's baby dragon.

Why, though? Why had he been praised and awarded for his stupidity?

_ **"You're the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry. You can get away with anything… but definitely not with Snape. Be careful though, mate, nobody likes a show-off. Did you notice that the Know-It-All has no friends?"** _

Ron's words all those months ago echoed through his brain. As the Boy-Who-Lived, he was awarded or derided by his peers and his professors for every little action he took or every decision he made. He was there to be judged at the whim of others; the Boy-Who-Lived… belonging to everyone… yet utterly alone.

Just then, Snape and his Slytherins left the hall quietly.

There was another wrongful assumption Harry had made... Snape had been trying to save his life during the Quidditch match when Quirrell was jinxing his broom.

The Potions Master didn't even acknowledge the snickering from some of the students; a Gryffindor further down the table from Harry had even booed, but Snape just allowed the door to close silently behind him.

Harry felt sick to his stomach, and when he glanced at the head table, he could see that some of the other professors shared this feeling, save for the Headmaster, who continued to sip his drink and smile genially around at the students in satisfaction.

Harry rose from the bench and left the Great Hall. None of his friends noticed him leave.


	3. Chapter Two

_ **Contemplations** _

Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, allowed the painting that hid the opening to his quarters to slide shut behind him. The Potions Master frowned, not even the release of slamming a door off of its hinges was he allowed.

Damn Dumbledore to the deepest, hottest and most demon-infested pits of hell! How dare that manipulative, pyjama-wearing, dodgy old tosser embarrass him and his students? It had taken the Potions Master close to an hour to placate his Slytherins, especially the desolate little first-years.

When the winning points to Gryffindor had been so unfairly given, he had been surprised to see Longbottom move away from his friends to sit at the end of the table alone and ignore his celebrating housemates.

As he thought about it, Longbottom's points had been fair, the boy had been trying to stop the others from continuing in their foolish quest. However, when the colours of the banners had been so carelessly changed and the three houses, including his colleagues, began to celebrate, Severus had clenched his hand tightly in his lap fighting the urge to pull his wand on Dumbledore-The-Thoughtless-Wanker.

They weren't really celebrating Gryffindor's win, but Slytherin's defeat. He'd looked over at his Slytherins and made eye contact with the prefects, who immediately… delicately… cautioned the rest of their housemates; if a Slytherin had to accept failure or defeat, then they were to do so with finesse and aplomb.

_**"Ach, don't pout, Severus. The best house won, finally, wouldn't you say?"**_ **Minerva had said out of the corner of her mouth, in her seat next to him, applauding her lions.**

**Severus had really wanted to throw a drink in her face, but the food had yet to appear, and it was obvious that the woman hadn't realised the enormous blow Albus had made against house unity. The Potions Master hadn't bothered to reply to his colleague's careless ribbing, he was already acquainted with Minerva's love for trivial competition.**

**The food appeared and he ate only a little, then sipped on some wine just long enough until it was polite for him to leave. Bringing his cup to his lips he glanced at Dumbledore's Golden Boy and frowned, the boy wasn't smiling and celebrating with his friends as he'd been doing earlier, in fact, the boy seemed to be in deep concentration. With an inner snort, he looked away, the Boy-Who-Lived was going to return to a loving family, while some of his Slytherins would have to deal with the consequences of what their own family considered unsatisfactory performance. Sighing softly, the Potions Master realised that he couldn't sit among these people much longer. Their — his colleagues, mostly — insensibility to everything his students had to endure both at school and at home, made him want to start casting random 'empathy' curses.**

**Alas! There were too many of those types of hexes to choose from, he'd be disarmed before he could decide which of them to cast.**

**As Severus stood, he was surprised — though he did not show this — when his Slytherins stood with him. With a slight nod of his head and a glint of pride in his eyes as he looked upon them, his students left the Great Hall uniformly. When the last two students left through the door, Severus followed and didn't bother to acknowledge the snickers and scattered booing behind them.**

Making himself a cup of coffee, Severus snorted derisively; none of them would have had the guts to attempt such a thing during the school year when he could take points and give detentions. What they all seemed to forget was that Professor Snape had a long memory and patience to spare; he chuckled darkly as he thought up of various disgusting things he could make them prepare for potions during _hours_ of detention.

As for his colleagues, he would have to think of something, but their punishments would not be anything as... conspicuous... as harvesting the thick, viscid and olive green mucus of Flobberworms.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

A few days before the students were to depart for the summer vacation, Severus was collecting some boxes of Umbrella Flowers which Pomona had harvested for him, when he heard a conversation that had him baffled.

"No, Harry. We're not friends. A friend wouldn't have jinxed me and left me alone while he goes off to nearly get himself killed."

Despite the words, the Potions Master was impressed by how calmly they were spoken.

"Neville, I'm sorry for what happened, but I thought someone was trying to steal the stone for Voldemort and then he'd come after me."

"So, your idea to save yourself was to chase after an adult who was strong enough and evil enough to kill you?"

"W-well..."

"You know what, Harry. I don't care anymore... you, Hermione and that git you call your best friend can all leave me alone."

The Potions Master smirked and silently applauded the boy, he never thought he would witness the day that Longbottom stood up for himself.

He levitated the large boxes and charmed them to move in any direction he walked; he aimed for the open door, allowing the boxes to move ahead of him when someone collided with the first box.

"Longbottom, watch where you're going!"

The boy scrambled to his feet and scrubbed away, what Severus assumed were tears, from his face. He rolled his eyes and strolled passed with his cargo when he heard the boy sniff.

Severus whirled to face the boy, "Longbottom."

"_AH_! U-um, I mean, yes, Sir?" The boy stammered as he looked up fearfully at the abrupt movement and intense focus of his least favourite Professor as he addressed him.

"Follow me."

Severus turned back to the boxes, his cloak billowing behind him and a tiny shaking figure, following in his wake.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Back in the classroom, Neville watched uneasily as the Potions Master lined the ten boxes along the wall; he then summoned another box from storage containing large glass jars and placed them near the workstation Neville usually sat at during class.

When Snape gestured for him to stand at the workstation Neville quickly shuffled into the seat and huddled as he glanced up at the man.

He'd heard from older students, that Professor Snape gave detentions at the slightest infraction and now he wished dearly that he'd been paying attention while walking into the greenhouse.

What Neville didn't realise or think of, was the fact that since everyone would be leaving within the next few days, detentions were eliminated until the next year.

"Professor Sprout has informed me that your skills in Herbology are exceptional."

Neville felt his cheeks heat, but he said nothing as he continued to fumble with his fingers and nodded hesitantly. Two jars were placed in front of him, and Neville's head jerked up at a familiar fragrance.

Professor Snape had levitated one of the boxes along the wall, placed it next to the box of jars and closer to Neville before he opened it.

"Umbrella flowers!" He bit his lips and looked back down at the desk.

"Accurate, Mr Longbottom."

Neville felt his heart stutter, Professor Snape had told him that he was right! Well, he knew he was right… but still!

"Now, can you tell me at least two uses of this flower?"

"W-well, they're o-one of the m-main ingredients in the Dreamless Sleep potion and..." Neville felt his face heat again, "...I t-think they're used in o-old-lady potions."

Neville kept his eyes on the desk in front of him, which was a good thing because if he'd looked up at that moment, he would have fainted at the sight of the Potions Master forcibly fighting a burst of laughter.

"The proper term, Mr Longbottom, is 'beauty' potion. Have you learned the preparations for the Umbrella Flower yet?"

"Um, they can only be harvested or prepared using magick... and I-I've only learned how to harvest them at home, Sir."

"Very good because, as you will soon discover, the charm used to separate the blossoms during harvesting is the same used during preparations. Observe."

Neville watched carefully as Snape pointed his wand and separated all five of the huge petals from the weirdly tiny bud with a softly chanted spell; the Potions Master then levitated the petals into a jar and sealed it, the bud, he put into another jar.

"Five petals to a jar, Mr Longbottom. As for the buds," Snape pointed to the jar with the single bud, "they can all be placed in one jar. Now, choose a flower so I can discern whether you need further instructions."

Neville took his wand from his robes and though his hand shook, he wasn't as afraid as he usually was when around the dour man. Maybe it was because Snape was actually demonstrating what needed to be done as opposed to just demanding they follow his instructions on the board? Neville wasn't sure of the answer, but he chose a blossom and carefully levitated it from the box to the empty space in front of him; another spell and all five petals separated just as Snape's had done.

Elation filled him and he smiled brightly, unfortunately, this was enough of a distraction, and the petals fell to the desk and disintegrated. Neville hunched and began a stuttered apology, but Snape only levitated another blossom in front of him.

"It's just a flower, Mr Longbottom," the Potions Master said calmly, "and you did well for your first attempt. This time, try to remember to levitate the petals after you've separated them from the bud."

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Severus observed Longbottom from time to time as he worked on next year's class curriculum. The boy had quickly gotten a hang of levitating the petals into the jars, and once satisfied that the child could complete the rest on his own, Severus pointed out an empty crate in the corner where Longbottom should place the sealed jars.

The Potions Master then set up two other stations similar to Longbottom's and retreated to his desk to begin adjustment to all of his classes course of studies for the next year.

About half an hour after Longbottom began to work on his own, two of Severus' other students appeared at the door and the Potions Master gestured silently for them to enter.

The two newcomers eyed Longbottom curiously but said nothing as they each chose a station and began to work on their own box of Umbrella Flowers. Severus noted that Longbottom was so deep in concentration, the boy wasn't even aware that anyone had entered the classroom.

When he thought of his actions toward Longbottom that day, Severus couldn't exactly say what had guided him. Longbottom reminded him too much of one of his boys and if the Gryffindor was in the same boat as them, then Severus' own negative actions toward the boy needed to change if Longbottom was ever to confide in him. However, for all Severus knew, it could be the fact that Longbottom had told off _Potter_ and the Potions Master was just subliminally rewarding him. Only time would tell.

Severus was unsure of how much time had passed since the newcomers' arrival before he heard a slight gasp from Longbottom; he glanced up to find that the boy had just turned from packing away a couple of jars, and had immediately noticed the other occupants of the classroom.

The Potions Master bit back a smirk as the other boys continued their work, pretending to be unaware of Longbottom's moment of panic. Taking pity on the frozen form, still near the crate, Severus addressed him.

"Mr Longbottom," Severus felt somewhat disappointed at the startled gaze that flew to his, "thank you for your help, you may leave for the afternoon as dinner in the Great Hall will begin within the next hour and a half."

Surprise flittered through him as he noticed the boy glance between another box and the two — still ignoring him — boys, but fear won out, and the Potions Master nodded as Longbottom wished him a good evening as he left.

Severus knew the boys must have been burning with curiosity the rest of the afternoon so he wasn't surprised when, as they were leaving for dinner, his godson decided to ask the question he and his best friend wanted the answer to.

"Uncle Sev, is Longbottom like us?" Draco asked, gesturing to the dusky-toned boy beside him.

Severus sighed as he looked down into the curious little faces, "I am unsure Draco, but it is my duty as a professor of this school to find out. That said, I know you boys understand the fragility of the situation and trust that I don't have to request your silence on the matter, especially in confronting Longbottom."

Draco and Blaise looked at each other and looked up at their mentor and Head of House, and both boys answered earnestly.

"We won't say anything, Sir."


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though most of my characters are children/teens, most of the time they will not speak or think as if they are. I try to get them to when it's necessary, but overall... *shrug*

_ **Second Year** _

Harry shuffled into an empty compartment further up the train, where he knew few students ventured. He struggled for a few minutes to stow away his trunk, but he gave up when the weight became too much for his sore body to bear. Instead, he shoved it into a corner and placed Hedwig's empty carrier on top, then settled himself gently into a seat.

His mind immediately jumps to the conflict within him.

The day they'd all left the school grounds to get the Express at Hogsmeade Station, Hagrid had given him a precious item that had turned his world upside down. It had been one of the reasons that this summer at the Dursley's was one of the worst he'd ever had.

First of all, the Dursleys had been more vicious than in previous years, and he soon learned that the main reason was Dudley's cursed pigtail that they'd had to get surgically removed. Dudley had missed his first week at Smeltings because of it.

Harry frowned as he wondered if it really was so easy for non-magical people to terminate something done by magick. He knew that Hagrid had been trying to turn Dudley into a pig; was it possible that the curse was still there? Dudley had seemed — though it blew his mind to think so — hungrier, messier and fatter than Harry remembered.

If he got the chance, Harry decided that he would ask Hermione's opinion on the matter... or maybe an older student who would know more. Thoughts of Hermione brought Harry's mind back to his summer resolution concerning his friends.

Harry had chosen to end his friendship with Ron when, during the week before they left for summer holidays, he came to the conclusion that the redhead was only his friend because of Harry's 'Boy-Who-Lived' status.

As for Hermione, he chose a wait-and-see approach even though he'd decided that he would not willingly seek out her companionship. Hermione had been the one to jinx Neville, but Harry couldn't put all the blame on her because the girl had been doing it for him, and they'd both left their friend there, while Ron had never cared for Neville at all.

Since the End-of-Term Feast, Harry had decided on a course of action, and it was thanks to Neville's rejection of friendship.

Not that he blamed Neville, no, Harry really was grateful; Neville had done to him exactly what Harry had done to Malfoy when the Slytherin had offered his friendship. However, where Neville had been calm and almost sad in his rejection of Harry — and in defence of his own self-worth — Harry had been rude and insulting to Malfoy because the Slytherin reminded him of Dudley, and he'd wanted to impress Ron.

Neville's action had allowed Harry to really look at himself and see what his life would have turned into. Keeping friends whose only loyalty was to 'the hero', The-Boy-Who-Lived… not _Harry_.

Harry shuffled in his seat and froze with a sharp gasp, he winced as he shook his head. Would they still be loyal to Harry Potter, the boy who couldn't defend himself against an overweight, slow-moving muggle?

_What about when they realise I'm a fraud?_

Over the summer, Harry had wished he'd had friends to confide in, and he shook his head again; another flaw on _that_ path... keeping friends because he's lonely and afraid. Terribly afraid.

No, not anymore! If Neville could stand up for himself, chose not to have unworthy friends, then Harry could do it too, even if it meant not having anyone to confide in or depend on.

The strange creature that had appeared in his room at the Dursleys, had made the separation from his friends even easier. Dobby, the being called himself, had kept all of Harry's letters from him, it had been a small stack, about six envelopes at the most and one had definitely been his Hogwarts letter.

If any of the letters had been from Ron or Hermione, then they would really have believed that he'd broken things off with them. Harry would never know who the letters had actually been from; Dobby had burnt them to ashes using some sort of Fire Charm, and Harry had gotten the blame for it when he'd received a warning letter from the Improper Use of Magick Office.

As for his Hogwarts letter, Harry had no idea how he was going to manage without school books. His robes would fit well enough, though they were just a bit short; he had a few school supplies that he could manage with, but he would eventually run out. The boy had no idea what he was going to do, but again he guessed that he could ask an older student, maybe one of the Prefects.

Anyway, Dobby had told him that there was a danger at Hogwarts this year, but Harry didn't care. Anywhere was better than being at the Dursleys, in fact, Hogwarts was his home no matter what the Headmaster said. Harry had practically begged Dumbledore to allow him to remain at Hogwarts over the summer, but the Headmaster had refused.

Dobby had said he was only trying to keep Harry safe, but the creature had only made living at the Dursley's intolerable. For a moment, Harry had even thought that Dobby had been trying to keep him from getting through the barrier, but the sensation of walking through a thick clay-like substance wasn't going to stop him from going home. Harry hadn't felt any different after he got through the barrier, so he assumed that whatever Dobby had tried to do had failed.

The train began to move, and again he appreciated this end of the train as he hadn't even realised that there were currently hundreds of students on board.

Harry gingerly lay on his side and winced as he moved, but he was tired so he placed his feet up on the seat next to him and settled down to sleep for most of the journey. By the time the train got to Hogsmeade, Harry's magick had at least healed his internal injuries.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table near the end where the first-years were going to be sitting, and he absently replied to a greeting from Dean and Seamus on the bench opposite him. They, like everyone else so far, treated Harry the same as last year, so that meant his secret was still safe and all anyone cared about was catching a glimpse of his scar. Harry shook his head; he'd have to do something about that scar.

Ron was sitting somewhere further down the bench with his brothers, thankfully. Not too surprising — since she'd probably written to him over the summer and hadn't gotten a reply from him — Hermione sat near to the girls from her dorm room and ignored him.

Neville was sitting next to Dean at the very end, keeping to himself but replying to comments respectfully and to the point. Neville didn't look up at him at all, and Harry — sad that he'd lost a good friend — sat silently and waited for the Sorting.

His mind turned to the strange black skeletal creatures that had been pulling the carriages. Last year, he and the other first-years had travelled to the castle by boat, so of course, Harry hadn't seen them then. It almost seemed as though no one else saw them today. The boy wondered what they could be, and decided he would search the library for an answer to that and… other things.

As the Sorting began, Harry looked up at the head table. All the familiar faces were there except for one man, who was grinning around at the students and extravagantly dressed, with glossy dark-blond hair. It must be the new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher, Harry thought, as his gaze moved on to the professor sitting next to the man.

He hurriedly looked down to hide his amusement and bit back a laugh; Snape was gazing directly at the man in absolute disgust, unfortunately, the grinning man was oblivious.

Finally, the Sorting ended and the Headmaster gave a welcome speech before he introduced the new DADA teacher, Professor Lockhart, who stood and waved as though greeting inferior vassals. The meal appeared and Harry ignored the head table to pour himself a drink.

He swallowed a much-needed gulp of orange juice as his gaze darted over the sumptuous, and immense platters of food along the length of the table.

Harry wanted to eat, but there was nothing on the table that his empty stomach could handle. His body had become accustomed to the soups and watery cereals his Aunt Petunia had shoved through the catflap of Dudley's second bedroom for him, at least once a day, over the summer.

Nevertheless, Harry was extremely hungry and he eyed a platter of grilled chicken that begged to be eaten. He pulled a small leg onto the plate in front of him and speared a slice; swallowing heavily, as he tried not to drool, he took the slice of meat in his mouth and began to chew.

It felt wrong. His teeth felt weak... or more accurately, unaccustomed to their proper function, and he couldn't continue. Using a napkin, he allowed the offending object to fall out of his mouth, and he wiped his lips and hands clean before pushing away his plate.

"I could use a nice hot bowl of oatmeal right now." Harry sighed to himself, but immediately his eyes widened in surprise when a steaming bowl of oatmeal appeared in front of him.

Harry glanced around, but everyone was focused on their own food or talking to each other. He looked back down at the thick and creamy looking concoction, and his mouth watered; picking up a spoon, he took a mouthful, swallowed and waited. When his stomach didn't rebel, he continued taking small bites and slow, careful swallows as he forced himself not to cry in relief.

So completely focused on his first real meal in weeks, Harry was unaware of three different sets of eyes observing his actions.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Down in the dungeons, grey eyes gazed restlessly at the canopy above.

Draco couldn't have seen what he did, or he did see it but it couldn't possibly mean what he thought. If Blaise had seen it, his best friend would have known what it meant immediately, but Blaise hadn't been facing the Gryffindor table.

Draco sighed and shifted to his side, Potter's actions concerning the food had reminded him of his first week of school when he'd been getting to know Blaise; even the way Potter had awkwardly stretched to get something from the table in front of him was familiar.

Regrettably, it had been Draco who'd caught Potter's disturbing behaviour, and now he wondered if he should do anything about it. Uncle Sev had seen… Draco knew he had, but would Uncle Sev even want to help Dumbledore's Golden Boy. His Godfather hated Potter, everyone knew it.

Then Draco thought of Longbottom, who was — now that he thought of it — sort of similar to Potter. Uncle Sev hated both Gryffindors, yet, he'd decided to help one of them; not that Longbottom knew this, but… help the awkward Gryffindor would get.

_I'll leave it up to Uncle Sev._

Draco relaxed, the weight of responsibility lifted off his shoulders, and his eyes drooped as sleepiness grew. Whatever happened, it was no skin off his nose, Potter had chosen his own path last year.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

The next morning Harry decided to tackle the issue of his empty backpack.

"Percy, I was wondering if you could help me with something. I don't know who else to ask."

"It's what we, as Prefects, are here for, Harry. How can I help you?"

Harry was glad he'd chosen Percy, the Prefect was efficient at his duties and very helpful.

Percy took Harry to a room located a floor above the library. The enormous room was empty but for a black line on the floor in front of a desk with a stack of papers, an inkwell and quill lying next to it. The Prefect pulled one of the sheets of paper and Harry realised it was some type of sign-up form that would temporarily give him access to the Hogwarts Tuition Welfare Fund.

"Once you fill out and sign the form, everything you should need as a second-year student, and more, will appear on the other side of the line. So I suggest you remain on this side of it until that happens."

"Okay."

"We only ask that at the end of the school year you return the textbooks and other large equipment, if they're still intact, so that someone else may benefit at a later date. Oh, and here you go," Percy said, taking out a stack of books from his own backpack, "You won't find these books in here, so you can borrow mine."

The grinning face on the cover, was enough for Harry to guess that these were all the books for Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Lockhart.

"Thanks, Percy, but won't you need them for your classes?"

"To be honest, I don't think anyone actually _needs_ these books, but I can borrow them from one of my brothers. Fred and George usually share books, but mum still gets two of everything... I think it's a habit on her part."

"I'll take care of them until I can give them back to you. Thanks a lot, Percy, I was really worried about what to do."

The older boy smiled down at the second-year, he wished that more of the students, especially his brothers, were as affable as Potter.

"No problem, Harry. Oh, here, give me your knapsack."

Harry handed over the bag and watched as the Prefect tapped it a couple of times with his wand. His backpack glowed for a moment before it went back to normal.

"I put a Weightless and an Extension Charm on it," Percy said as he returned Harry's backpack, "the charms will last until morning, so you can stay as long as you have to and get all that you need today, seeing as it's Sunday."

"Wow, thanks! I can't wait to learn spells like that. Would you be able to teach me those spells, Percy?"

The sixth-year felt a rush of pleasure, "I'm sure I could teach you the Weightless Charm, but the Extension Charm is a seventh-year spell. Hey, I've been asked to tutor a few of the younger years on Friday afternoons. Why don't you join us then?"

"I'd really like that. Do I meet you at the library?"

"No, I usually find an abandoned classroom, as it can get loud and Madam Pince doesn't appreciate loud. Meet me in the Common Room after your last class on Friday and we'll take it from there."

Harry nodded and began to fill out the form; once he was done, Percy tapped it with his wand and it disappeared, Harry guessing, to the Headmaster's office or maybe to his Head of House. He forgot about the form when the rest of the enormous room behind the line was flooded with shelves, racks and boxes of everything he could possibly need for the year.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, Harry. I have a study session myself."

"Okay, see you later, Percy and thanks again."

Once the Prefect had left, Harry took his book list from the pocket of his bag — Percy had gotten one from somewhere for him — and began his hunt.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

As Percy strolled to the library for his study session with Penelope, his mind was occupied by thoughts of Harry Potter.

Why hadn't Harry been able to get his school supplies over the summer?

Why was Harry still the height of a first-year student? Did it have something to do with his strange eating habit Percy had noticed at the Welcoming Feast?

And finally...

Why had Harry kept flinching every time his _empty_ backpack brushed against his back?

_I think I'll keep an eye on him... just to be safe._

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

The table was crowded.

Harry stared, bewildered at the number of things he'd found and temporarily stored on an empty table. Then he turned to the trolley that he'd used as he ambled around the aisles; that too was full.

He'd found a set of school robes, shirts and pants that fit his slightly bigger frame better than the ones he'd brought, and Harry decided to bring his old school things, that he didn't need anymore, to put into the Fund. There were even muggle clothes, shirts, tees and jeans that he could wear during the weekends. Harry chose mostly black clothing as they hid stains better; he'd even found a pair of sturdy black boots that he could wear to some classes and black sneakers that he could wear at other times.

The only thing from his school list that he hadn't gotten were potions ingredients. Harry didn't know what to do about those as he didn't have any money. Obviously, if he'd been allowed to go to Diagon Alley during the summer, he would have had all his things and visited Gringotts then.

With a shrug, Harry began to pack everything into his enchanted backpack. Snape always allowed them to use the ingredients from the school stores, and Harry hoped that the Potions Professor would continue with that habit this year.

Harry was about to start packing his textbooks when a couple of them fell from his grasp. He bent to retrieve them when his eyes fell on the open page of one of the books. Someone had written along the margin — a potions book from his glimpse of the content — and had crossed out a few of the printed lines here and there.

Flipping through the pages, Harry could see similar markings on almost every page. He was about to take it back to the shelf and pick another book, but then he read the words in the margin next to the recipe for a Swelling Solution Potion.

Whereas the printed words stated that the pufferfish eyes should be added to the mortar containing dried nettles, ground then added to the cauldron; the margin writer states instead to ground both separately — each into a fine powder — and a level spoon of the powdered nettle, _then_ the pufferfish eyes are added to the cauldron with three clockwise turns between each.

Harry's frenzied studies of Potions, at the beginning of his first year of the class, had left solid memories of some of the information he'd learned. Nettle was not an ingredient to be used or handled lightly... if the pufferfish eyes were added to the nettle simultaneously, the guanine crystals contained in the eyes would immediately begin to break down. This deterioration would, in turn, cause a slight but noticeably sluggish effect, including an olive green colour of the potion.

The margin writer's solution, Harry guessed accurately, would cause an immediate effect once the potion is used, and according to the writer, the potion would become a beautiful chartreuse green.

Taking a quick glance at some of the writings in the margins, Harry surmised — off of the bit he remembered from his studies — that the writer had been really good at potions, and had probably enjoyed the class. The inscription on the inside cover of the book further intrigued him.

"This book is the property of The Half-Blood Prince," Harry murmured, and he stood to continue his packing, "a half-blood... like me. I wonder if I could find the rest of your second-year texts in here too."

Harry yelped when all the texts, but the Potions book, shot away back to the shelves. His mouth slackened when replacements floated from the shelves and onto the table in a neat stack. Lifting the covers of the books, he took note of the Half-Blood Prince's signature on all of them. Harry's eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together tightly.

"I'd like a single roll of parchment, please," he said tersely, and facepalmed when a roll of parchment floated toward his table from the back of the room.

Harry glared fiercely at the trolley he'd been pulling and shoving around for about two hours, and he shook his head with a resigned sigh.

"Well, I _had_ asked for a trolley."

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Harry rose early the next morning, gathered his school clothes and took them to the bathroom with him. He was usually the first one up, as he'd gotten used to waking at five-thirty every morning at the Dursleys'.

They had Potions first thing this morning, and he found himself excited to use the Half-Blood Prince's guidelines. He had to get better at Potions… it was necessary now.

Stepping out of the shower stall, Harry twisted in front of the full-length mirror to check out the injuries on his back. They had closed up, and all that's left was some deep bruising.

'Much better than yesterday, young man. About time you went to the Mediwitch.'

Ignoring the chatty mirror, Harry brushed his hair and thought again about the Mirror Of Erised and his conclusions over the summer. His hand shook as confusion, fear and hope, filled his heart.

Harry didn't look like his father, he features were a blend of both his parents. Yet, everyone says he looks _exactly_ like James, but this was untrue. Harry had studied repeatedly, the photo album Hagrid had given him, and there was no resemblance.

Lily was definitely his mother, he had her eyes and some of her features, but there was no way that James Potter had anything to do with his conception. The man he'd seen in the Mirror Of Erised though, Harry could see how he might definitely be a blend of that man and Lily.

His father — and maybe even a kind and loving stepmother — might still be out there somewhere.

Did Harry's father know about him? It was obvious that one of his parents had known he wasn't a Potter; there had to be some kind of magick over him if everyone thought he looked like James.

_But... how come I can see my true self, but others can't? Whoever had cast the spell had probably done it wrong, or hadn't cared if I grew up knowing that I wasn't a Potter._

Whatever the answer, Harry was determined to find it, therefore, doing better in his subjects and scouring the library for more magickal knowledge were good starts.

After a breakfast of some oatmeal and orange juice, Harry went down to Potions class. The door to the room was opened and when a quick glance around told him that Snape wasn't there yet, Harry entered and chose the first bench he came to — technically it was located at the back of the class — on the left side of the room facing the blackboard.

There were four rows of benches that each seated three people on either side of the room, and Harry knew that he would be on that bench alone which was what he wanted.

The boy set up his cauldron on the burner, took out a letter-sized pad of parchment and a self-inking quill he'd gotten from the Fund. Taking out his Potions textbook, he settled down to read until the class began.

His classmates began to stroll in sometime later and Harry glanced at his wristwatch; he hadn't realised that he'd gotten to class so early, he had to have been reading for at least half an hour as the first page on his pad was full of notes.

As he'd thought, no one sat next to him, for which Harry was grateful. It was about time he started to take his schooling seriously, he had the Dursleys to get away from and a father to find.


	5. Chapter Four

_ **Deliberation** _

A soft sigh brimming with woe.

. . .

Coffee... sipped and savoured.

. . .

The slide of a wooden drawer.

. . .

_It was a ploy…_

. . .

Long, elegant fingers massaging a barely creased forehead, before threading through black silky hair.

. . .

A soft rustle, as those fingers locate the single item in the drawer; an old photo of a young woman.

. . .

_It had to be... I'd made a vow._

. . .

A spike of the usual hurt as the occupant of the photo looks blankly at him from the side of her emerald green eyes before looking away.

. . .

_Always looking away._

. . .

The boy was cared for, he'd been assured of it.

. . .

An elegant finger caresses the beautiful silhouette.

. . .

It leaves the photo.

. . .

_Otherwise, I've failed._

. . .

Another rustle as the photo is returned to the drawer.

. . .

The drawer is slammed shut.

. . .

_Dumbledore had sworn that the boy was safe._

. . .

Dark eyes stared blankly at the ingredient-filled jars around the office.

. . .

_Dumbledore lies for 'The Greater Good'. I should know that better than anyone._

. . .

A heartfelt sigh.

. . .

"What do I do? How do I even begin to help a boy I despise?"

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

The Sunday after the students had returned, Severus took every opportunity to study Potter whenever the child was within his sight.

The boy was so like his damned father, playing with his hair, brushing it back and brandishing his scar; so secure in his so-called fame.

Severus yearned to send a Balding Charm at the arrogant brat's head.

He had pondered the situation all night, and the only solution the Potions Master could come up with was that he would have to… slightly… change his approach to Potter.

The first thing he'd noticed, was Potter descending the stairs that led to the Hogwarts Fund — seeing as there really wasn't anything but abandoned classrooms on that floor — Severus wondered why the boy had been to that room, then decided that he would search out the forms kept by Madame Pince. Unless of course, Potter was looking for some case to solve or an adventure to embark upon.

Even if the boy had been to the Fund, it was still inadequate evidence of what he believed Potter's home situation to be.

Severus would just have to continue with his investigation.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

So, the boy _had_ been in the Fund yesterday.

Madam Pince had been as forthcoming with him as usual — not that she had any other choice — when Severus had figured out the woman's true function as the Librarian, the younger woman had continuously been helpful to him ever since. Honestly, though, Irma had always been helpful, at one point he'd even believed she'd had a crush on him, until the day she'd scolded him like a child in the staff room for drinking coffee while reading one of her precious library books.

Currently, Severus was relaxing in the staff room during one of his free periods, sipping a cold drink while he thought of his latest clue in spying on Potter during class.

The boy had even found one of Severus' old textbooks and had been avidly taking notes, unaware that his professor had been looming invisibly nearby. The Potions Master wasn't sure how he felt about this; the only time he'd ever seen a Potter study that hard had been when the Marauders were preparing some humiliating prank for unwary students, that is, Slytherin students.

However, the latest Potter had — for some yet unknown reason to Severus — forsaken all of his friends and from the look of it, his entire house. The brooding man briefly wondered how the boy would fare on their Quidditch team but brushed it aside, he was sure he would hear all about it from Minerva.

From his standpoint, it seemed to Severus that Potter was just renouncing friends to focus on his studies. The Potions Master snorted, stretched his long legs to cross them at the ankles, bringing the icy glass to his lips; it was only the first day of the new term, there was more than enough time for the boy's true intentions to surface, and Severus had the patience to wait him out.

"Severus, may we speak privately for a moment?"

Pulling his gaze from the window and the Forbidden Forest beyond, Severus turned to find the Astronomy Professor standing near his chair, and stroking her left index finger weirdly like it was a tiny pet... he hadn't seen her do that in years.

Experiencing a familiar irritation, Severus returned his gaze to the trees past the window, "Aurora, can't it wait until classes are done for the day? I have a session with second-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in a few minutes and I would prefer my free time to be uninterrupted by trivialities before then."

"O-of course, then might I call on you in your office later this afternoon?"

"Fine."

Severus relaxed his grip on the glass when he heard the rustle of Aurora's robes as she hustled away. He felt a bit guilty at his treatment of her, they weren't teenagers anymore, and there'd been no reason for his nastiness. In fact, he and the Astronomy professor didn't communicate beyond staff meetings and most of the time, not even then.

Severus stood to return to his classroom and sighed, he would apologise to the Astronomy Professor when she came to his office later. For now, he had Potter to figure out and first-years to terrify.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Severus sent a note to Aurora, postponing her visit. He had been granted an unexpected opportunity to give Potter detention and he'd taken it.

Longbottom was already at his desk grounding willow bark when Potter arrived promptly at six pm. Longbottom had actually asked him to help prepare some of the ingredients and to encourage more such interactions the Potions Master had allowed him.

Severus directed Potter to the storeroom at the back, located through a side door on the right near the entrance of the classroom. He noticed Potter's eyes widened in surprise at Longbottom's presence in the class and wondered if his job concerning these two wouldn't go smoother if the two worked out their differences. He would have to think more about this.

At the base of a large concrete sink, were six medium cauldrons and three smaller sizes in the sink itself, all in different states of grubbiness.

"Scrub those clean, no magick," he said, then pointed to a cleared shelf on the other side of the room, "and turn them down over there to dry when you're finished."

Severus took a large box of filled jars and left the room without another word to the boy hunched over the sink. He returned to his classroom and topped up the ingredients cupboard for the next hour.

Later on, once the cupboard was fully stocked for another day and Longbottom had already departed for the evening, the Potions Master chose to cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and Quietening Charm on his footsteps before he returned to the storeroom.

When he spotted Potter scrubbing away by the sink, Severus froze for a moment, but then walked slowly over to Potter as he stared at the back of the boy's shirt. There was a long red line that spanned the width of his small shoulders.

It was blood.

Severus backed away and leaned against a cupboard near the door as he considered his options. That blood could be from anything.

_You know better… you recognise the pattern… remember your own shirts?_

. . .

Well, for the moment the Potions Master couldn't think of anything, innocent or accident, that could have left a mark like that on the boy. Quidditch Practices began from tomorrow, and he hadn't caught Potter breaking any rules yet.

Severus could confront the messy-haired nuisance, but he knew from experience that a direct confrontation wasn't always the best idea. He would have to get Madams Frazier and Pomfrey involved; the school's Consiliator and the Mediwitch would be the better options of getting Potter to open up about any possible abuse.

Just then, the boy scratched at the possible injury and Severus cringed; Potter hadn't even reacted to something that should have hurt like hell. Completely forgetting about his Disillusionment Charm he gave the boy permission to leave and froze when he realised his mistake.

Potter had looked around and assumed his hated professor had entered the room and left just as quickly. Severus observed as the boy rinsed the last of the cauldrons, threw on his school robes and left the room.

After a few minutes, Severus removed the magick over himself and decided to make his way to the Hospital Wing. He wondered that he didn't change his profession the numerous amount of time he spent there.

Severus sighed as he locked the classroom door behind him, while there was nothing he could tell Frazier or Pomfrey, he could at least give them a head's up so that they could keep an eye on Potter.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Neville Longbottom was conflicted. He was currently trying to complete his History of Magick essay, but he couldn't concentrate on the notes before him, even in the silence of the library.

Today in Potions class, Professor Snape, while he'd been his normal abrasive and snarky self, hadn't been any extra terrible to him. Neville found that he'd actually been able to complete a potion without it exploding.

The potion had been as unusable as most of the other students', of course, but Neville had secretly been proud as he'd handed up a complete potion with everyone else. Then after class, Professor Snape had actually _not_ snapped at him when Neville had stuttered through a request to come in after classes to help prepare potions ingredients.

The dark-haired boy remembered when, almost two days after he'd helped Professor Snape with the Umbrella Flowers at the end of the last term, he'd 'accidentally' walked across the Potions Master's path and had been allowed to help with other ingredients. This time, though, Malfoy and Zabini hadn't made an appearance.

For whatever reason, Professor Snape was being 'nice' to him, and Neville was beginning to develop reluctant respect for the professor, even though the man still razed students if he thought them incompetent.

His other focus of internal conflict was Harry.

Neville recalled when he'd spotted the other boy on the Express. Harry hadn't seen him, of course, Neville had been the first to get on the train, and concern filled him again at the memory of Harry's sickly and haggard appearance.

On the train, Neville had shrugged off his concern because he knew that Harry's friends would probably figure out what was wrong and help him.

What Neville hadn't expected was for Harry to have completely broken off any friendship he'd had with Ron and Hermione, with almost everyone actually, as Harry barely spoke to any of the other Gryffindors. The only person Neville had really seen Harry talking with for the past couple of days was Percy Weasley.

Harry had even sat alone in Potions and a couple of other classes all week. Neville felt guilty for how he was treating the other boy, but Harry and Hermione's betrayal was still fresh in his mind.

Neville wanted to resume his friendship with Harry, and maybe even Hermione, but he didn't want to experience their disloyalty again; and honestly, for the moment, Neville was enjoying his budding courage. If he had friends again, what if they ruined it? No, he was doing just fine on his own, and from what he saw, so was Harry, maybe, and Hermione — definitely… _maybe_?

_Perhaps the three of us are better off alone._

Just then, Neville noticed Madam Frazier entering the library, with Harry appearing close behind her. Harry disappeared behind some shelves, but Neville saw that even though the Consiliator spoke earnestly with Madam Pince, her eyes had lingered on Harry. Not long enough for anyone to remark on, but Neville had been speaking with the woman since last year's end-of-term, and he'd picked up on her hastily hidden spark of concern.

Neville looked down at his essay as relief flooded him, and he returned to adding bits of his notes to the essay.

Harry was going to be fine; there was no better help for him than the Consiliator. After all, she had been the one to help Neville see that he'd been giving others power over himself; even Snape was treating him better.

Maybe when he went to see Madam Frazier for his appointment he'd hint that he thought something was wrong with Harry. Yes, that was what he would do, because even though Neville wasn't ready for a true friendship with the other boy yet, he could still help Harry whenever he needed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consiliator is Latin for Counselor - translations from Google Translator.


	6. Chapter Five

_ **Second Year - Part Two** _

Why?

_Why did I say that to Snape?_

To get away from Lockhart, that's why, and now he had detention.

Harry scrubbed at the cauldron in the sink he stood over. There was a quantity of unrecognisable gunk stuck to the bottom and side of all the cauldrons so far, and Harry knew that Snape saved all the failed potions for his detentions.

Now that the boy knew what happened to some poor unsuspecting student if he or anyone else blew up a potion… well… Harry could promise to not explode any cauldrons, but failing a potion was up to Snape, or Malfoy who'd help by tossing random ingredients into Harry's bubbling and unprotected cauldron.

Sadly, his ploy to get away from Lockhart had backfired. Snape must have sensed that Harry wanted nothing to do with the man and had assigned one of his detentions with the DADA professor.

Lockhart was becoming increasingly annoying. The vain man was intent on his assumption that Harry revelled in his 'fame' the way Lockhart fairly relished his own. Earlier in the day, when the DADA professor had grabbed at Harry for the third time, so they both could pose for a photo — which a first-year had requested — it had been the last straw.

**"Hey!" Harry pulled himself away from the man, gasping sharply at the renewed pain from his healing bruises. "Leave me alone, you **_**bloody**_ **duffer!"**

**Lockhart had stood there, mimicking a fish while his face reddened. Harry was too angry and in too much pain to care or apologise, he spun to continue on to his classes and bumped into someone.**

**"Detention, Mr Potter. While I wholeheartedly agree with your assessment, I cannot stand by as a student disrespects another Professor. No matter how **_**incompetent**_ **this Professor happens to be."**

**Harry had been glaring up at Snape, but his eyes widened when Lockhart spoke up.**

**"Yes, thank you Professor Snape and I shall oversee his detention **—**"**

**Harry thought quickly and spoke over Lockhart.**

**"Sure, agree with me then give me detention why don't you — you… ** _ **clotpole**_**!"**

**Harry struggled to keep the glare on his face, but…**

_ **What the bloody hell is a clotpole?** _

**A snort of laughter escaped and Harry bit his upper lip as Snape's dark eyes bored into him. Fear finally blossomed when the Potions Master smirked, baring crooked teeth.**

**"Detention. With me. Tonight, Mr Potter," and before Harry could breathe easily, "and another tomorrow night with Professor Lockhart."**

**Harry's shoulders slumped, "Yes, Sir."**

Most of the bruises and injuries he'd gotten from the Dursleys' last warning had mostly healed. One or two still remained, including sore muscles and Harry gently stretched his back and shoulders.

"Mr Potter, your detention is at an end, you may leave."

Harry looked around, but Snape had already disappeared back to his office. He rinsed the last cauldron and turned it down to dry, and grabbing the school robe that he'd discarded earlier, he left.

Back in his dorm room, Harry collected his books to do his homework and returned to the common room; he sat in a corner at an empty table near a window and took out his Transfigurations notes. He'd missed what would have been his first study session with Percy's group, and regretted his minor outburst of rage at Lockhart. Percy would have been able to explain the parts of the material he didn't understand, however, when he perused the Half-Blood Prince's notes most of his questions were already answered in the margins.

Sometime later, when he was on his last assignment, that being Potions, Harry remembered something that had bothered him earlier. It had only been a glimpse — as they were no longer speaking socially — so Harry hadn't stopped to talk, but seeing Neville prepping Potions ingredients comfortably, and unafraid, with Professor Snape in the room grading papers…

_What was that about?_

And why had the sight of it made Harry feel… betrayed?

Maybe it's because Harry had tried to apologise and make things right between them, but Neville hadn't given him the chance. Yet he could work with _Snape_ who'd criticised them cruelly all of last year.

The one thing that he and Neville had in common had been Snape's hatred of the both of them, and now, now Harry really was alone. He stared blankly at his Potions notes in front of him, guilt and jealousy eating at him.

Harry had secretly been hoping that Neville or Hermione would at least try to make things right between them, but scolded himself at his selfish thoughts; he hadn't tried to make things right with them either and for good reason, for him anyway.

Harry hadn't thought of how difficult having no friends was going to be; he hadn't wanted to feel any similar experiences to what he felt at the Dursleys, but it seemed he would have to readjust his prior expectations for the rest of his boarding at Hogwarts.

Maybe… going it alone _wasn't_ the answer for him.

Later that evening when he changed out of his school clothes, Harry spotted the blood that stained the white shirt and his heart leapt to his throat. One panicked thought ran through his mind.

_Had Snape seen it?_

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

During his detention with Lockhart, Harry began to question his own sanity.

It didn't seem as though he had anything to worry about where Snape was concerned as the man didn't appear to act differently around him, but it was apparent that strange events around the castle were beginning to affect _The-Boy-Who-Lived_ again.

The night of his detention with Lockhart had been the very first night Harry had heard the voice, a blood-thirsty and sadistic voice, that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Over the next few weeks, Harry would hear it again on three separate occasions, and each time he'd been alone.

He hadn't told anyone, not even Percy, who continued to help him with his schoolwork on Fridays and had even begun to teach Harry how to write properly with a quill.

"You're getting much better, Harry, just try to remember to keep the quill at a forty-five-degree angle, and don't press too hard," Percy said, then leaned closer to mutter, "Soon even Professor Snape would give you a proper grade just for being able to read your assignments."

Harry snorted and chuckled, "If I'd known that was all it took to get a good grade from him, I'd have learned how to use a quill since last year."

The sixth-year boy grinned and went over to help the only first-year Ravenclaw in the study group, and Harry returned to writing over his Charms essay.

"I think your Wrackspurt infestation could be the cause of why you aren't able to focus during Potions. They can make your brain go fuzzy, you see."

Harry glanced up to find the Ravenclaw girl staring eerily at him.

"Think positive thoughts during your Potions class, it keeps them away, then you can focus and get better grades."

"Um, thanks?"

Think positive thoughts… in _Snape's_ class. _Riiight_.

"I'm Luna Lovegood, and you're Harry Potter."

"Yes." Harry wasn't sure what else to say, the girl had basically had the conversation for both of them.

"Luna, the spell."

Percy covered a grin as he broke up the unusual dialogue between the two.

Harry sighed in relief when the girl returned her weirdly intense gaze to her own work to follow Percy's instruction.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

Harry tuned them out as he wrote his essay and absently thought of what he was going to do after the Halloween Feast two weeks away.

The one 'good' thing the Dursleys had done — Harry knew now — was that they hadn't lied about the date his mother had died. They hadn't told him the truth about the date because they cared or anything. It was because he'd be out of them and their precious little Diddykin's way for the Halloween celebrations.

So every night, on the 31st October at eleven pm — when he was certain the Dursleys were asleep — Harry would light a piece of candle that he'd smuggled from the trash earlier in the year for Lily and James.

This year, even though Harry suspected that James wasn't his biological father, Harry would light two candles, one for each of them and take a few snacks from the feast to 'celebrate' with Lily and James. Harry had even already thought of how he would set things up.

Laughter from the other students in the abandoned classroom brought Harry's mind back to the present.

"Sorry about that," Luna said, her cheeks flushed red as Harry looked at her, and she waved her wand in his direction.

Harry became aware of a weird sensation on his scalp, and when he reached up to touch his hair he realised that they'd all been levitated; Harry guessed it had looked like he'd been electrocuted. Luna had already released the spell and his long black locks slowly fell into a full look.

"Well, although it was the wrong target," Percy said with a smile, "you got all the hairs with one spell, Luna. Impressive."

Harry sighed and dropped his hand. He would look ridiculous walking along the crowded corridors — with his now disenchanted hair looking rounded and bouncy like Lockhart's — but at least Luna had given him a great idea that would help in his Halloween ritual.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

"Mr Potter, how are you?

Harry turned and paused in his stride to the library. He froze at the sight of the person addressing him.

"Hi, Madam Frazier. I'm alright."

Harry shifted his backpack as he gazed at the schools Consiliator and around the empty corridor.

"Relax, Mr Potter," the chestnut-haired woman said smiling, as she continued past him and whispered, "I'm just saying hello, no one needs to know we've spoken."

His shoulders relaxed and Harry chuckled at his skittishness and Frazier's teasing as she casually swept around him and entered the library. They'd bumped into each other during one of his strolls along the corridors once, and somehow he'd found himself opening up about breaking off the friendship with Ron and Hermione, and Neville's own distance from him along with other things. That day, she'd invited him to make official visits to her office and he'd yet to take her up on her offer.

"Hey, Irma."

"Jinnet, you're early."

Harry ignored the two school's staff and made his way to the back of the library. He found a secluded and empty table and placed his bag near one end before he went over to a row of shelves and began his search.

The first time he'd heard that chillingly sibilant voice during Lockhart's detention, Harry had assumed that Peeves had been playing a trick on him, even though deep down he didn't really believe that the poltergeist could be that vicious in his pranks against students. However, for a few days, Harry had allowed himself to be _comforted_ by the thought of Peeves pulling a prank on him every time he'd heard the voice since.

Surprisingly, and quite welcomed by Harry, he had not heard the voice in almost two weeks, but he wanted to know what he could possibly be hearing and began his search for books on chatty, invisible and murderous magickal beings.

"Hmmm, based on your list you're either looking for a Leshy, a Kitsune, or a Púca; however, a Kitsune is native to Japan and unless one of the transfer students brought one as a familiar — which we all would have noticed — I don't see it being the creature you're looking for. Neither the Púca, as they are naturally 'good' creatures and the most they'd do is play pranks on humans."

Harry stared gobsmacked at the girl — Luna, Percy said her name was — who'd levitated his hair during his study session a week ago, standing on the other side of his table and reading his list upside down.

"Plus, there are many more magical creatures capable of being chatty, invisible and murderous. People, for example." With that, the girl walked away without waiting for Harry's response.

Harry closed the book he'd been going through with a sigh, and he slumped as reason had returned to him in the form of a first-year Ravenclaw. This was a school full of magickal students like himself, therefore, the voice could belong to any one of the hundreds of them.

Then again, Lockhart hadn't reacted to the voice, which meant that either the idiotic professor was a part of whatever was happening or someone more advanced in magick than the Defence Professor had been able to pull a prank on Harry without Lockhart any the wiser.

And that could literally be anyone. _Anyone!_

Harry pushed the library books aside and pulled his Astronomy text toward him, deciding to complete his homework.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Harry entered the abandoned classroom, now known as the Study Room, and sat at a table where only one person occupied it. He noticed an increase of muttering but didn't bother to pay attention to those at the other tables, annoyed by the student's constant fascination with 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'. It looked like Percy was running late, so Harry pulled out his History of Magick homework to pass the time.

"Hey, Harry."

The boy looked up to see one of the girls across the room gesturing to an empty seat at their table.

"You can sit here with us if you'd like."

"Uh, no that's alright. I have some other work with Percy today and need the extra room. Thanks anyway."

With a small smile, Harry returned to his homework and began to read over the chapter Professor Binns had set, extracting or making small notes from each paragraph that he would use to complete his essay.

"Would you like me to move?"

The words were softly voiced from the other side of the table, and Harry looked up, slightly annoyed at a second interruption. The girl… um… ah, Luna Lovegood wasn't looking at him but down at her own school work, her quill balanced over the parchment as she waited for his response.

Giggling erupted from the other tables and looking around, Harry noticed some of the others pointing at the girl across from him or muttering to each other. He heard a word that sounded like 'looney' and his annoyance doubled. Looking back at Luna, he saw her begin to roll up her scroll and he placed a hand on hers, his jaw clenching as he noticed the tremors.

"It's okay, Luna. There's enough space for both of us."

Sad greyish eyes had looked up at his touch, but the relief and gratitude he saw there now made his anger at the others grow. However, he pushed his ire away and smiled at her; he knew what it felt like to be an outsider and called insulting names. With a final squeeze of her hand, Harry returned to his work and she followed his lead; the snickers from across the room had ceased long before Percy appeared.

"So, which topic are you going to choose for your summer assignment?"

Study session had ended an hour before, and Harry and Luna were taking a walk by the lake before the feast. They'd caught a glimpse of Hagrid setting up giant pumpkins in the Great Hall and Harry felt excited at getting to experience his first Hogwarts Halloween Feast; hopefully without another troll incident.

"Dragons," Harry replied with a smile, "definitely dragons. What about you?"

"Well, I'm leaning toward the hybrids, especially winged-felines, or Elementals. I'll have to think about the two some more. I guess we have some time until we really have to make a decision."

"Sometimes it's hard for me to remember that creatures like that are real; though, I guess it's especially hard for anyone who grew up in the muggle world without knowing that magick even existed."

"I can imagine," Luna said, nestling down in the grove of the roots of a large beech tree, "I've never been to the muggle world. The day we went to Diagon Alley to get my school things, daddy and I had lunch at The Leaky Cauldron. I asked him if I could just step outside into the muggle world to see what it looked like and he panicked, saying that it wasn't safe."

Harry frowned as he sat next to her. It was weird to him that most magickals knew nothing of the muggle world when almost the entire world was occupied by non-magical people.

"I'm going to take the Muggle Studies class for my third-year electives, then, maybe one day when I'm old enough I won't look so out of place when I visit the muggle world."

"Well, if you have any questions or you need help with your Muggle Studies homework you can always ask me. Hermione Granger will be able to help with the more difficult stuff I can't explain, oh, and Dean Thomas is muggle raised too."

"Will they… are they kind? Some people can be mean if a person they don't know asks them a question."

"I'm sure that Hermione will be happy to answer your questions, as for Dean, I don't know him too well but I guess if you catch him alone he'll be kind enough to answer your questions."

The two sat quietly in a bubble of contentment, leaning against the trunk of the tree; each pondering their tentative yet promising friendship.

"Everyone makes fun and calls me names because of my beliefs, so no matter what I do, they'd find something about me to make fun of. It's not as bothersome anymore like it used to be, I am who I am and I can't be someone I'm not. If being Luna Lovegood makes them dislike me, then that's their problem; I'm not going to change who I am to please anyone but myself," Luna said, her tone matter-of-fact.

Harry turned and regarded her silently; they'd been just getting to know each other for the past hour, but this is the first he'd let himself study her as she stared dreamily across the lake.

Luna had dark-blond hair that hung down her back in clumpy strands; her eyes were more of a pale silvery hue than grey, and her eyebrows arched profoundly over them, giving her a perpetually surprised expression.

She wore radish earrings and a bottle-cork necklace and she constantly placed her wand behind her ear. Luna Lovegood was intelligent, insightful, had a strange yet wonderful sense of humour, didn't care what anyone thought of her, and was in need of a trustworthy friend. Harry didn't know if he could fill that role adequately, but he was damn well going to try.

"I don't know much about you yet, Luna, but I can honestly tell you from what I've seen, that Hogwarts would be a dull and gloomy place if you were to ever change."

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Everything was perfect.

The two candles — filched from a supply closet — for Lily and James hovered at a safe distance in the air, away from the curtains that were closed around his bed. The few snacks and dessert from the feast were laid at the foot of his bed on a tray, along with a sealed bottle of honey mead he'd gotten from Luna earlier.

After he'd told her his plan for that night, Luna had run to her dorm before the feast and snuck the brown paper sack to him in the midst of the jumble of students entering the Great Hall.

"_Salutant Mortuis_ is a wizarding tradition, it means 'salute to the dead', and honey mead is the traditional drink. I would suggest only half a glass, and uh, don't let anyone catch you with it." Luna had whispered the last part in his ear and returned to staring up at the ceiling as she walked.

Harry had quickly stuffed the bottle into his backpack and squeezed her hand in thanks before heading to his table; ignoring the pug-faced Slytherin girl and her friends, _'Looney and Potty sittin' in a tree…_' he sat down and enjoyed only the main course of the feast. By the end, Harry had filled one of the small pumpkin-shaped baskets provided, with fruits, dessert and snacks before returning to his dorm room.

With a touch of his finger against each of the hovering candles, both were instantly lit and Harry sat back on his bed with the photo album Hagrid had given him. He heard some movement and muttering on the bed to the right of his and he knew Neville had come up, but the others were still down in the common room. He'd put up a Quieten Charm around his bed so he knew Neville couldn't hear anything, and he continued to take in the photos of his parents smiling and waving at him and those caught in short loops of time.

Opening the honey mead, Harry carefully poured some in the water glass he kept on the nightstand by his bed. He carefully resealed the lid, he wanted to return it to Luna, as he had the suspicion that she'd brought it to toast her mother's passing, and he placed it aside.

Then he raised his glass.


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: there's some bogus/questionable psychiatric dialogue and practise in this chapter (and maybe future chapters). We are going to pretend that it's right for this fictional magickal world.

_ **Second Year - Part Three** _

Neville held Trevor close to him as he entered his dorm room and sat on the side of his bed. He breathed heavily and closed his eyes as he tried to calm down, he knew Harry had to be sleeping as his curtains were drawn around his bed and Neville didn't want to wake the other boy.

Looking down at his beloved pet, Neville's heart clenched in disappointment at what his dormmates had done; he didn't know who did it, but if he had to guess he'd say it had either been Ron or Seamus. Trevor now had two tiny horns protruding from the top of his head and Neville could tell that his pet was in distress.

Pulling his wand from his pocket, Neville muttered a 'Finite Incantatem' over Trevor, his heart began to race when it didn't work, but he tried it again and sighed in relief when he saw the horns shrinking back into Trevor's head.

"Mum, da-, um, I mean James..."

Neville looked up at Harry's bed curtains. Was Harry talking in his sleep? It didn't sound like it.

"I, um, I've never Toasted The Dead before and uh..."

Neville cleared his throat, but Harry kept talking. Why?

Neville's eyes widened in realisation, his Finite Incatatem had cancelled the Quieten Charm Harry had put up around his bed.

"... in nineteen eighty-one on Halloween night, you both died trying to protect me, and quite frankly I think you died for nothing, especially you James..."

Neville put Trevor in his Warded glass habitat on the nightstand, biting his lip as he wondered if he should tell Harry that he could hear him. He was not going to think about what Harry was saying, it was obviously personal and wasn't meant to be heard by anyone. Neville had to tell him.

"... for a kid thinking he was yours. Well, I guess you know the truth now..."

Neville froze. Was Harry saying what it sounded like he was saying?

"... don't know why anyone else can't see the real me, but everyone says you were a good man; brave, smart and everyone admired you. So I guess it's not so bad to be called your son."

Neville heard a muffled sniff and guilt swamped him; if he told Harry that he could hear him now, Harry would know that he had been listening. So Neville returned to his bed and went to put up a Privacy Spell he'd learned from his Gran; not that she knew she'd taught him anything. The spell would have prevented sound from entering or escaping the barrier, but unfortunately, the others chose that moment to make their noisy way toward the room.

"... one day that I could make you proud of me, mum. That I could be worthy of you dying for me..."

Harry was still talking, obviously thinking that his Quieten Charm was still activated, and Neville began to worry; the others would hear Harry's words and might even start spreading rumours, especially that loud-mouthed Ron. The door was opening, and with no other choice, Neville pointed his wand toward Harry's bed.

"Silencio!"

The word was muttered loud enough for only Harry to hear and Neville felt apprehensive that the other boy might retaliate; however, Harry's bed curtains remained closed, relieved that he couldn't hear the other boy anymore, Neville casually pulled his bed curtains closed as the others loudly came into the room, and he tried to relax.

The irony of what he'd done hit him and tears came to his eyes.

Casting a spell on someone to protect them was completely different from casting a spell just to hurt or make fun of someone. It had been hard to forgive them for leaving him that night, unable to move or call out for help, Neville still had nightmares about it. Now here he was lying on his bed full of guilt for what he just did to Harry — the boy might not even know why Neville had done what he did unless Harry could now tell that his spell had been cancelled — this must be how they'd felt at the time. Then and there, Neville forgave Harry and especially Hermione for the Petrificus Totalus.

As for Ron...

"Oi, the spell wore off. We'll have to find something that'll last longer."

"Or you could just leave his pet alone, Ron," Dean said, his voice dripping with annoyance, "you wouldn't like anything like that happening to your rat, would you?"

"Right, as if Longbottom even has the juice to make Scabbers fur stand on end. Hey, Seamus, what about...?"

Neville heard a sigh and the ruffling of the sheets from the bed across the room from his.

"I'm going to bed," Dean said, clearly not interested in hearing any more of Ron's prattling, "'Night, Seamus."

Seamus absently replied and quickly returned to making plans with Ron, both mumbling and with muffled guffaws for long minutes.

As for Ron... Ron can bugger off!

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Harry strolled along the somewhat quiet corridors. It was Sunday and most of the students were taking the time to catch up on sleep or extra-curricular activities. Harry, however, was too nervous to really enjoy the peace. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed that his Quieten Charm had failed last night; he was a bit embarrassed that he'd been overheard, but he was reasonably sure that what he said would never be repeated by Neville.

Earlier that morning, Harry had decided to have his first official session with Madam Frazier; it was scheduled to begin within the next half hour, and he was kind of looking forward to it. Harry never thought he'd ever feel this way about seeing a therapist, but the freedom of knowing that the Consiliator would never repeat anything he said to someone else, it did a lot to ease his mind.

"There you are Harry, I've been looking for you."

"Hey, Luna. What's up?"

"Did you hear about the attack last night?"

A feeling of unease came over him and Harry shook his head.

"What attack? What happened?"

"Filch's cat, Mrs Norris, was found Petrified, and there was a note written on the wall next to her that said 'Enemies Of The Heir, Beware'. And now everyone is walking around with Wrackspurts circling their heads like ravenous little sand flies."

Harry blinked and shook that image from his mind as Luna skipped happily next to him.

"What does being Petrified mean?"

"It means that Mrs Norris has been turned to stone."

"You mean like the Petrificus Totalus spell?"

"Sort of, but it's easy to end a Petrificus Totalus; with being Petrified, a Mandrake Restorative Potion would have to be brewed. But what's really terrifying to everyone, is the note. I'm guessing you've never heard of the Heir of Slytherin or the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry shook his head and linked his hand behind his back. As they walked, he listened intently as Luna told him about the Chamber Of Secrets, and the one person who could control Slytherin's monster within.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Madam Frazier's office was comfortable, almost muggle in its cosy library/sitting room design. Harry sat on a soft chocolate coloured sofa, across from the Consiliator. Behind her was a four-foot-high bookcase that ran the length of the wall behind her, with candles and statues resting on top and on the wall above the bookcase were still paintings of strange and beautiful landscapes or cloudscapes.

"How have you been, Mr Potter?"

Harry twiddled his thumbs as he sat on the sofa across from Madam Frazier. Though he found it somewhat freeing to talk to her, Harry still felt uncomfortable sharing his feelings.

"I'm alright, and please just call me Harry."

"Alright, Harry, let's begin slowly. My position here at Hogwarts is relatively new as, not more than six years ago, the magickal community here in Britain didn't know anything about therapy, and their usual solution to mental trauma was to throw a potion at it. When that potion didn't work, the problem was either ignored or locked away in St Mungo's Permanent Residency Ward.

"My job here is simple in that I'm here to listen and guide, that's basically it; however, if the problem needs more than my listening skills, then I can go a step further with either a prescription of extra-curricular activities, meditation and even necessary potions. My last resort would be to send untreatable patients to a magickally operated muggle facility — also a new implementation — where muggle medicine is used during their stay."

"Huh, I didn't think witches and wizards would be comfortable going into the muggle world, much less using their medicine."

"Well, the LePince Facility is quite small at the moment, but we believe with proper knowledge — this is where Consiliators like me come in — young witches and wizards will develop with a more open mindset than their predecessors. Now that we've got that short backstory out of the way…" Madam Frazier chuckled at Harry's amused snort. "When we first spoke, one of the things you told me was that Mr Weasley had helped you with access to the school fund and that you have study sessions with him. How have they been?"

"They've been fun and helpful. I can write with a quill properly now, and my grades have improved. Professor McGonagall even made a comment on one of my essays, she says that my theoretical knowledge has improved; she even kept me back after class once and said that if my practicals were better I'd be third or second place behind Hermione."

"How did you feel when she told you?"

"It was unbelievable that I could be that close to Hermione's grades, but it felt good... I haven't tried to do well at school work in a long time." Harry paused, blushing, he hadn't meant to say that. "Anyway, I realised that writing with a quill isn't the only thing I don't know about the wizarding world, and when I told Percy, he gave me a list of books on Wizarding Culture that I might find in the Fund."

"It's good of Mr Weasley to be so accommodating, not everyone realises how difficult it could be for muggle-borns. He doesn't show it but Percy's a lot like both his parents, wanting to foster those younger or somewhat lost, and very receptive to muggle-borns and muggle raised. If you've ever met his parents you'd understand what I mean."

"Yeah, Percy's really cool. He doesn't do pranks like Fred and George, but he can be hilarious sometimes; I think they try to rile him up because they can't outwit him in an argument."

"That's quite insightful and probably true," Madam Fraizer said with a slight smirk, "however, the reason I brought up Mr Weasley is to show you that he cares about you, a lot of people do. In fact, it's why I approached you so that we could have a conversation; quite a few people came to me very concerned about you."

Harry felt his face heat, "What?... Like who?... Percy?"

"Most of them asked me not to reveal their names, except for Mr Weasley, who wants what's best for you, but he knew he wouldn't be able to give you all the help you might need. I want you to know that the only thing he told me was that you seemed down and that your eating habits were worrying."

"Okay, and what did the others say?"

"Basically the same thing about your meagre meals, except for one person who noticed something more. Harry, I'm going to ask you some questions and I need you to hear me out and answer truthfully. If you don't want to answer, all you have to do is say so, or shake your head. Would you be able to do that for me, Harry?"

His sense of comfort almost gone, Harry nodded as he sat stiffly. Madam Frazier tapped a notepad and a quill with her wand and both items hovered quietly next to her.

"Are you happy at home with your family?

Harry sat staring at his twiddling thumbs quietly for a few seconds before slowly shaking his head.

"Do you get enough to eat when you're home over the summer?"

Another shake of his head.

"Harry, has anyone of your family members ever hurt you?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, not looking at her.

"Did you ever have your full check-up that was supposed to be done by Madame Pomfrey, during the first week of your first year at Hogwarts?"

Harry frowned, "No, ma'am."

"Did Professor McGonagall ever summon you to her office for the full check-up?"

"No, ma'am."

"Okay." Madam Frazier deactivated the hovering quill and notepad and placed them on the table beside her. "Harry, like myself, Madam Pomfrey is under magickal oath to never reveal a patient's medical information without their explicit consent, or in your case, parents or guardians. Your guardians would have been mailed a consent form along with your Hogwarts-"

"They wouldn't have replied to it then," Harry said, cutting her off, his voice hoarse.

"Well, I don't know why that was overlooked by your Head of House, but it has to be rectified. Will you be okay with me requesting Madam Pomfrey book an appointment for you in the Hospital Wing? It'll be less detailed compared to a full check-up, but should still be enough for her records."

Harry nodded slowly, "Madam Frazier, hypothetically, if Madam Pomfrey was to find something... odd, what would happen?"

"Well, if there are signs of abuse or negligence, Madam Pomfrey will inform the Headmaster of the necessity of the child's removal from the negative environment. The Headmaster will then inform-"

"No."

"I'm sorry, Harry. What do you mean by 'no'?"

"If I let Madam Pomfrey do the checkup, then whatever she finds is between me and her... and you, I guess."

"Harry, that's not how this works. If there are signs of physical abuse, then the Mediwitch is required to inform the proper authority. In this case, it's the Headmaster, who in turn will have a Healer come in to assess-"

"Then I don't agree to the checkup. You don't have my _family's_ consent anyway and no matter what you do, no matter who you ask, I don't think you'll ever get it."

_Dumbledore won't allow it. In fact, the Headmaster already knows_, Harry thought to himself, _and he still sent me back to those monsters, talking about Blood Wards and all that rubbish... note to self, look up Blood Wards_.

"Harry..."

"Thanks for listening, Madam Frazier." Harry stood and went toward the door, but stopped before he opened it. "Can I still make an appointment for next Tuesday as usual?"

"Of course, Harry," the Consiliator said, disappointed at not getting him to agree to a full check-up, but relieved that Harry was still willing to speak with her, "even if you don't have an appointment, once I'm free and you need to talk, I'll be here."

With an absentminded smile, Harry left.

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

The chilly days of November flew by into a snowy December, and although the bone-deep chill was expected, the anxiety and fear that now accompanied it wasn't; terror invaded the walls and occupants of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

During the Quidditch match in the second week of November — Gryffindor versus Slytherin — Dobby had broken Harry's arm with a bludger and Lockhart had then foolishly vanished the shattered bones. He'd had to spend the night in the infirmary, which was how Harry witnessed the professors bringing in Colin Creevy, Petrified like Mrs Norris. Their entrance had interrupted Dobby, who'd visited Harry to warn him again about the danger at Hogwarts.

Harry placed aside the book he'd gotten from the Fund on wizard culture and glanced around at the few students, mostly Ravenclaws, that were up before breakfast and chose to study in the Great Hall like himself. Later on in the day, he knew that most of the other students would either hole up in their common rooms or even loiter outside the castle in the snow. Anywhere seemed better than wandering the corridors with a monster on the loose turning students to stone.

For the past month, a few of the older students from the Ancient Runes and Charms Clubs had gotten together to create and sell amulets and talismans that protected the wearer from various evil creatures. Unfortunately, some of the more unscrupulous students thought they'd make a quick sickle by transfiguring sticks and stones, trading the duds for money or completed essays, or other valuables from gullible students.

Harry unconsciously stroked the dragon's tooth on a thin leather cord around his neck, as his mind wandered. The two-inch-long tooth had tiny engravings of three joined spirals and other protection symbols along its length; the cord was long enough for the tooth to rest between his clavicles and he'd taken to rolling it between his fingers while he studied. Luna had given one to him and one to Percy — whose amulet was in the shape of a sword with the same markings — during a study session.

**"Thanks, Luna," Percy had said, smiling, "but I think all those amulets and talismans being sold are fakes."**

**"I know," Luna replied, "that's why I made these myself."**

The sound of parchment jostling interrupted his wandering thoughts and Harry glanced at his watch; he still had an hour and a half before Quidditch practice and began to fill a plate with breakfast.

"Morning, Harry."

"Hey, Dean. Good morning. You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep," Dean mumbled as he sat a seat away from Harry and filled his own plate.

Finally able to eat something more substantial than porridge and soup, Harry returned his attention to his breakfast and bit into a strip of bacon, savouring it.

Within fifteen minutes the hall was buzzing with the chatter of students having their breakfast and prattling about rumours of a new Duelling Club.

"Are the rumours true, Percy? Are they going to reform a Duelling Club?" Someone asked further down the Gryffindor table and Harry's eyes followed the voice to Hermione, and next to her... Neville; both awaiting Percy's answer.

Looking away, Harry sipped thoughtfully on his pumpkin juice. Ever since the night of his Salutant Mortis ritual, Harry had noticed that Hermione and Neville had started hanging out again.

_Guess casting a Silencio on me when I wasn't expecting it gave him some perspective._

Harry wasn't angry about Neville's actions, in fact, he was grateful. It would have brought more chaos to his life if Ron or Seamus had heard his toast to his parents. However, he was a little miffed that Neville could so easily forgive the person who cast the spell... yet...

Harry sighed and selected an apple to munch on later. Growing angry at the situation was tiring and... just foolish. _He_ had chosen to stay away just as Neville had asked; forcing someone to be a friend never ended well for the needy party. Harry was relieved that at least Neville and Hermione had each other. And although Luna was a first-year, she was becoming a good friend to him.

Just then, Professor Lockhart stood from the head table calling for everyone's attention as he swaggered to the front of the platform.

"I guess we're about to find out whether the rumours are true or not," Dean murmured to him. Harry nodded as he hunched his shoulders and glared down at the table in front of him. Ever since his rude outburst, Lockhart had steered clear of Harry and only occasionally called on him in class, but he still wasn't going to give the man an opening to flaunt him in any way.

"My dear students, I'm sure you've all heard the rumours..."

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

"It's called Parseltongue."

Harry huffed an exasperated breath, but he didn't look away from the calming waters of the Black Lake far below, his chin propped on arms folded across his knees, as Luna sat facing him on the broad window sill. This was a rarely traversed part of the castle that Luna had shown him; Harry wasn't surprised that she'd found him.

"Let me guess. I can talk to snakes and no one else can understand when I do." He had been wondering why everyone gathered for the Duelling Club in the Great Hall had been looking at him as if he was a... _hmph_, a freak after Malfoy conjured a snake to attack him.

"Why do these things always happen to me?" he grumbled, ignoring Luna's chatter about Hagrid cooking some tasty chicken soup.

"Maybe you're just lucky," she said, playing with her necklace

"Yeah, with bad luck!"

"Luck can't always be good, therefore it can't always be bad."

"Mmm." Harry knew he was being a grumpy git and that later on, he'd be grateful for the insight, but at the moment he didn't want insightful advice. He just wanted ... he didn't know what he wanted.

"I wish I'd had the ability to talk to my pet snake."

"You have a pet snake?" Harry turned to her wide-eyed.

"Had." Luna looked away from the water as well, and the sadness in her silvery gaze erased his anger. "He died in the explosion that killed my mother."

His breath caught in his throat. Unsure if his touch would be welcomed, Harry tentatively reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, leaving their joined hands to rest in the space between them.

"Mum liked to experiment with Charms. It was a horrible accident."

"I'm sorry, Luna."

Suddenly, her sadness was replaced by her usual dreamy expression, and Luna returned her gaze to the dark waters of the Black Lake.

"It's okay now. Plus, your ability has given me an idea for my Charms extra credit project and maybe Potions." Luna gently pulled her hand from his, giving it a pat. "_See_, good luck."

Harry chuckled and didn't mention the obvious.

"Yeah, there's nothing like hearing something... _again_…"

That... no one…

Else... _can_.

"_Merlin's beard!_"

"More good luck, Harry?" Luna murmured, looking up at the star-filled sky.

"It's a snake!"

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

Harry told Percy of his suspicion the next morning and in turn, the Prefect informed their Head Of House. Once she had all significant details from Harry, and knowing that he was a Parselmouth, Professor McGonagall took the matter to the Headmaster.

It didn't take long after that for the staff to figure out that Slytherin's monster was a basilisk. After informing the school Governors, the Headmaster announced that all students would return to their homes the very next day; two days away from the end of term but the Headmaster deemed it necessary.

Professor McGonagall informed her Gryffindors, congregated in their Common Room, that the beginning of the school term in January will not change and that their parents would be informed of any delays if the basilisk was not found.

"How do they hope to find the basilisk, Professor?"

"We will be leaving that up to the professionals at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry, Miss Granger. Now, everyone should be packed and ready to leave by 8 am tomorrow morning."

Unfortunately, the early start of the Christmas holidays wasn't soon enough for Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick who were both petrified that very same afternoon.

Harry was just grateful that he only had to endure the suspicious glares and taunts of being the Heir of Slytherin for only a few hours until he was seated in an empty compartment — but for himself and Luna — on the Hogwarts Express the next morning.

His welcome back at the Dursleys' wasn't as bad as he'd been expecting. Aunt Petunia handed him a list of chores that were recyclable until he left for Hogwarts in January, and his Uncle threatened to belt him if he stepped a toe out of line. Harry could see the man's disappointment at Petunia's fussing that she wanted the boy to be able to do his chores so that she could focus on her shopping for her _Diddykins_.

Harry's trunk, including his wand, was locked in his old cupboard and — hiding his relief that he wasn't immediately going to get a beating — Harry glanced at the first chore on the list before heading off to do it. Maybe if he got through the first cycle of chores quickly, he could get away with minor upkeep on his repeat rounds for the rest of the holiday.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All previous chapters have been edited.

_ **Of Need And Valour** _

Harry was cooking breakfast four days later when there was a knock at the front door. It was still early enough that his uncle and cousin, and most of the neighbourhood, had yet to wake. However, Aunt Petunia hustled from the kitchen to prevent the impromptu visitor from waking her family.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Harry heard his aunt's harsh whisper from beyond the slightly opened kitchen door and wondered who it could be as he turned back to flip the pancakes before they burned.

He was placing the finished pancakes aside when his aunt bustled into the kitchen.

"Leave those where they are, boy. Go pack your things for _that_ school and get out. I want that _freak_ out of my house."

Swallowing nervously, Harry left the kitchen with an apology ready for the unfortunate Hogwarts professor to suffer his aunt's rudeness. He paused at the sight of the Potions Master standing in the entrance.

The man is without his robes, dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, denim trousers and boots; all black. Harry gapes, wondering how the man could look so different yet... comfortable in _muggle_ clothes.

"Potter!"

"Oh, Professor Snape, hello." Harry felt his ears burn, embarrassed that he'd been standing there gawking at the man.

Plus, it felt weird greeting the bored-looking professor in such a manner. Although, Harry guessed that — buried beneath his boredom — the man probably wanted to hex his aunt... or him.

Snape merely arched an eyebrow.

"Mr Potter. The Headmaster has tasked me with ensuring your safe return to the school. I will elaborate once we leave. _Now_."

"Yes, Sir," Harry replied with a grateful smile, then hurried to get Hedwig's empty cage from his room, leaving Snape in the hallway.

Coming out of the bedroom with the cage, and after a change of clothing, Harry blinked as Dudley tottered hastily back to his own room and shut the door.

Back at the entrance, his aunt had already unlocked the cupboard and stood some distance away with folded arms. Snape took the cage from Harry, shrinking it, and did the same to his trunk when the boy dragged it from the cupboard.

Harry took back the items from his professor and placed both items in his pocket. Snape spun away to the door, and Harry took a deep breath.

"Professor Snape, there was one other thing I was hoping you could help with?"

Snape sighed heavily but paused at the door and turned to Harry.

"What is it, Potter?" the professor asked, his patience already dwindling, so Harry quickly tried to explain.

"Last year, Hagrid tried to turn Dudley into a pig, but it didn't work right. Dudley ended up with a pig's tail instead, and I was wondering if you could check to see if the spell was still there. Please."

Snape stared blankly at Harry for a moment, then his gaze shifted to Aunt Petunia, who glared back at them.

"It's fine," she said sullenly, "we had it surgically removed."

Professor Snape rolled his eyes.

"It is not _fine_, Mrs Dursley. It might not have been done correctly, but a hex was cast on your son. The intent behind the spell has most likely remained. It may fade over time if the boy fights the enchantment, but even a weakly cast hex can last for years if nothing is done to reverse the magic."

Harry watched as his aunt sneered, turning her head away.

"My son doesn't need any help from _your_ kind. Take the boy and _get out_."

"No!"

Three pairs of eyes turned to watch as Dudley shakily walked down the stairs, throwing fearful looks at Professor Snape.

"Duddykins, breakfast is in the kitchen." Aunt Petunia pulled Dudley to her side and tried unsuccessfully to push him toward the kitchen. "Go on, you're fine, sweetums."

"N-no mum, I'm not," Dudley said, and turned with wide, terrified eyes, to Professor Snape, "I can't — I always feel like a pig. I _do_ things... where no one can see. There's been _mud_... please, if you can help me-"

Dudley flinched but remained frozen to the spot. Harry hadn't even seen when Snape pulled his wand, and now the dark wizard was brandishing it in Dudley's direction. A frown marred Professor Snape's brow before he cast the simple reversal spell.

"Finite Incantatem."

Harry and Professor Snape quickly left the house to Dudley's gushing thanks, which the man disregarded.

Harry, however, could no longer hear Dudley's words. The young wizard stood staring in amazement at the coolest thing he's ever seen on Privet Drive.

Then his jaw dropped at the sight of Snape getting into the driver's seat, after opening the back door of a black muscle car parked at the side of the road.

"Get in, Potter."

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

"With the highest probability that I regret asking the question later, what reason did Hagrid have for cursing a muggle child?"

Harry was startled at the question from the professor. They had been driving for more than ten minutes now without a word said by either of them, and the boy had been happy to let the silence persist.

Honestly, Harry was enjoying the ride as the car sped along the quiet country road. The satisfying rumbling purr of the engine as Snape accelerated away from the suburban settlement all but put the younger wizard to sleep.

Harry kept his eyes on the scenery out the front passenger window as he quietly answered the professor's question.

"When my uncle was trying to get us away so that I couldn't get my Hogwarts letter, he barely stopped for us to have a proper bite to eat. Dudley isn't used to being hungry, so when Hagrid found us and brought me a birthday cake, Dudley couldn't help himself. My cousin tucked in when Hagrid wasn't looking. Hagrid was angry because he found out that the Dursley's lied to me about my parents dying in a car crash. Then Uncle Vernon had called the Headmaster a crackpot old fool. So when Dudley took the cake..."

"I see," was all the Potions Master said about Harry's story, "well, about the reason for your early retrieval to Hogwarts. The Chamber of Secrets has been found. However, it needs someone with your unique ability to open it."

It took a second for Harry to understand what the man was talking about.

"Parseltongue. You need a Parselmouth to open it."

"Correct. Once you have done so, you will return to your Common Room. There you _will_ remain until I, or another professor, retrieve you. Do I make myself clear, Mr Potter?"

"Yes, Sir," Harry says readily. He was just happy to be returning to Hogwarts sooner than expected.

Just then, there was a slight jolt that Harry wouldn't have noticed if the ride all the way from Surrey hadn't been so smooth.

"_Whoa_..." he whispered, his eyes widened in amazement.

They were on an altogether different road from the one before!

"How did you do that?"

Harry was still looking around in awe, not noticing the bemused look on Snape's face.

"Magic, Mr Potter."

Several minutes passed, and the car made two more jumps before Harry began to recognise the far off mountains as they drove through a muggle town.

"Are we almost there?"

Snape manoeuvred around a slow-moving truck before replying.

"This is the last muggle town before Hogsmeade, but we still have a long way to go before the next gate."

Harry nodded his head as if he had a clue what the man meant about a 'gate'.

"Merlin's Gates, Potter," Snape said after heaving a sigh.

At first, the boy thought the professor was swearing, but then Snape's wording clicked.

It was a name.

"I've never heard of Merlin's Gates before," Harry said, hesitantly, "do they teach about it in History classes?"

"No," Snape scoffed.

The car hurtled around a tight corner, and Harry grabbed a firm hold of the seat beneath him.

"As it stands, the only members of the wizarding world — in Britain mainly — that use Merlin's Gates anymore are Muggleraised, and Purebloods like the Weasleys. I suggest you ask Mr Weasley for an in-depth explanation during your study sessions. In short, Merlin's Gates are ancient portals that magicals use to travel far distances besides the faster and more modern means."

Harry thought of asking about other means of travelling beside using the Floo or a broom, but Snape spoke again.

"Since we are almost there, you -"

"We are?" Harry interrupted, twisting to look out the window. "I thought we were supposed to go through Hogsmeade."

"Have you _ever_... wait, no, you haven't." Snape gave a long-suffering sigh. "Cars are not allowed on Hogsmead's roads. We are at this very moment passing the village on a backstreet. Now, as I was saying, you've passed through the barrier at Platform 9¾, I presume?"

"Um... Professor..." Harry's eyes are stuck on the road before them, or rather, the edge of a precipice at the end of the road. "Cliff... _there_, Cliff!"

"Mr Potter!" Snape yelled.

Harry's head swung to the man beside him, who had yet to stop the car, though he did slow a bit.

"The barrier at Platform 9¾, you've been through it, yes?"

The boy nodded.

"It is the same principle," Snape continued placidly.

Harry's panic eased, but he could not help but clench _everything_ shut when he knew they were just about out of road.

At first, there was a split second of silence. Then the rumbling of the car's engine seemed to echo around them; like the Batmobile in the Batcave.

Peeking out one eye, Harry was confused at what he was seeing and opened both eyes. They were just leaving a tunnel and entering a large underground room with towering pillars that disappeared into the darkness above.

The professor manoeuvred the car between two pillars and cut the engine.

"Out of the car," Snape muttered, grabbing a black mass from the back seat before exiting the vehicle.

Harry quickly followed the man's instructions. Then he gently closed the door as every small sound seemed to resonate loudly in the underground garage.

By the time Harry reached around to the other side of the car, Snape was himself again, dressed in black, billowy teaching robes.

"Come along, Potter."

─── **･ ｡ﾟ ****: *. .* : ****ﾟ****. ───**

"The Bloody Baron has informed me that there is one other door below that Mr Potter will need to open." The Headmaster apprised Severus and the boy as soon as they approached the group intent on entering the Chamber.

Suffice it to say, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets was anticlimactic for Harry Potter. After his minor roll in opening the doors, the boy was then quickly ushered away by Professor Sinistra.

Aurora glanced down at the young wizard hurrying to keep up with her, and she eased her pace so that the child didn't have to run.

"How have you been enjoying the holiday so far, Mr Potter?" she asked to be polite.

The Astrology Professor never had the opportunity to truly get to know her students, unless they planned on advancing in Astrology or — rarely — Astronomy.

Mr Potter glanced up at her, then back along the corridor before them, and a small smile appeared.

Aurora almost stopped in her tracks at the familiar expression on his little face, but her strides stayed true.

"It's been great so far, Professor," Mr Potter replied, "I'm really excited to spend Christmas at Hogwarts again."

The professor kept her expression void of any concern and smiled at the boy in return.

"I know what you mean. I always miss Hogwarts when I go home for the Yule season. My first Yuletide here had been amazing."

Soon they got to the Gryffindor entryway, and Aurora supplied the password. The professor noticed the sniff of disdain toward her from the Fat Lady and aimed a withering glare toward it before the portrait swung open.

Once they both entered the Common Room, Aurora stood in the open doorway as Mr Potter looked around the room in relief.

"Professor Snape informed me that he interrupted your breakfast so... Nova."

The boy stared at her house-elf in amazement, but Aurora ignored it. Most people had that reaction the first time they met her demure, little house-elf.

"Mistress called for Nova."

"Yes. Please bring a platter of assorted breakfast foods for Mr Potter, and..." Aurora turned to the boy. "... hot cocoa?"

Harry nodded.

"And a mug of hot cocoa. Also, until I return, please attend to Mr Potter for anything he might need."

Aurora made slight eye contact with her house-elf to ensure she understood her mistress' request to guard the boy.

"Yes, Mistress."

Once Nova vanished, the professor turned to her student.

"Mr Potter, until one of the staff brings news of the basilisk, I insist that you remain in your Common Room until such a time."

"I will Professor," the boy said, making himself comfortable on the sofa near the fireplace.

Aurora left once Nova had returned with Mr Potter's breakfast.

The witch then hurriedly made her way back to the Chamber opening. She grimaced when she saw only one ministry worker at the entrance. However, she nodded politely to the woman and levitated herself down the winding pipeline.

The Headmaster had asked her to return and give Severus backup in the Chamber, and on seeing her confused expression, he had explained shortly.

**"I just had an urgent summons from the Weasley home that cannot be ignored. And while I do not paint all ministry workers with the same brush... Let's just say I would prefer if Severus had someone he could trust down in those Chambers."**

**"Of course, Headmaster."**

Aurora knew he only said so much because she had been the one to draw the 'short straw' this year to remain behind with the Potions Master for the holiday season.

She had tried to return before Severus decided to enter the Chamber without her. Still, the Astrology Professor knew it had been a fool's hope.

Her heart skipped a beat when the witch heard a shout that sounded like Severus. Then she saw someone lying just beyond the second opening. Placing a Silencing Charm on her shoes, Aurora rushed over to the man once she determined that the basilisk wasn't nearby.

The body was that of a ministry worker, his eyes were wide open, and his face a mask of horror and fear.

With a shaky breath, Aurora continued ahead. The witch is relieved to see the basilisk lying dead, its lower body in a pool of water, the rest across the walkway.

However, as she neared the head of the basilisk, she saw the body of the other ministry employee — battered and bloodied — floating in the pool.

_Where is Severus?_

The witch hurried around the open jaw of the dead snake, and Aurora gasped when she spotted the sprawled body of the Potion's Master.

One arm rested on his chest, while the other was outstretched and bleeding, the sleeve ripped and revealing a gaping wound.

Yet, the thing that made her choke out a soft cry was the slowly fading apparition of Severus standing over his body, and staring down at it.

"_No_."

The apparition didn't look up at her cry, and Aurora's eyes widened in realisation. Burying her fear and anguish, she dropped to her knees beside the man. The witch rummaged the pockets of his cloak; which for some reason was in a heap beside him.

"Where... where is it?"

The Astrology Professor spared a fearful glance for the disembodied spirit, which was becoming more translucent. Then she looked down at the potion vials she pulled from Severus' cloak.

"_Where is it?_" Aurora yelled, grabbing the lapel of his shirt and shaking him.

The arm on his chest slid lifelessly to his side, and she heard the slight clink of glass. With a wordless cry, the witch plucked the tiny vial of Phoenix Tears from Severus' hand.

Immediately, Aurora vanished the ripped sleeve of his shirt, exposing the entire injury. If she hadn't known better, the witch would have sworn that his arm had been sliced, from shoulder to elbow, with a blunt knife.

Aurora refused to look at the spectre standing silently beside her and the body, then began to carefully pour multiple drops of the Phoenix Tears into the deepest area of the wound.

Once the vial was empty, the professor moved her wand over Severus' body to run a diagnostic; a minor head wound, and the venom that had been invading his organs.

As she watched, the tearing on the Potions Master's arm began to heal, leaving unblemished skin.

Despite his body healing, Aurora still felt the chilly phantom beside her. Trying not to panic, she leaned over the Potions Master and grabbed his face, tapping it lightly.

"Severus, wake up."

Another light tap.

"_Severus_..."


End file.
